Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles

dir. Zhang Yimou

Few filmmakers have dodged the pigeonhole more successfully than China's Zhang Yimou. After first making a name for himself with the colorful, romantic melodramas Raise the Red Lantern and Ju Dou, Zhang then shifted to a series of prickly, rather humorless allegories (To Live, The Road Home) openly critical of his native government. Most recently, the sprawling Hero and House of Flying Daggers showed that the director also has a knack for kicking out the epic jams. Whatever the material, Zhang's painterly eye and unobtrusive control remain a constant.

Viewed in the larger scheme, then, Zhang's latest, the not-quite-as-depressing-as-it-sounds Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles, feels like a bit of a throwback to his downbeat middle period, minus some of the rough edges. Resolutely small-scale, it manages to evoke deep feeling while mostly dodging excess sentiment. Japanese mainstay Ken Takakura stars as a tight-lipped widower seemingly content to live out the rest of his days in self-imposed isolation in a remote fishing village. After his estranged son takes ill, however, he impulsively travels to rural China, with the goal of videotaping a rare folk opera. Upon arrival, he finds himself forced to rely on the kindness of the local townspeople, with an inept translator as his only bridge.

The universal brotherhood message seems rather simplistic at first glance (it may be worth noting that the director, the subject of repeated governmental bans, here depicts the rural Chinese authorities as generous to a fault), but the small, humanist details eventually add up. Above all, Takakura brings a masterfully stoic presence that fully complements Zhang's chosen grayscale. Within a scenario that could easily devolve into schmaltz, his slightest eyebrow lift carries the weight of a tectonic shift. ANDREW WRIGHT

Gridiron Gang

dir. Phil Joanou

Gridiron Gang breaks absolutely no new ground in its chosen field: the weepy, rah-rah sports movie. (Being released in close proximity to the rather more accomplished Invincible can't help matters either.) But there's still something comforting in watching a movie where every motion is preordained. Call it inspirational karaoke if you like, but it gets the job done. Mostly.

Based on actual events (the grainy documentary snippets of which, as shown in the closing credits, prove more compelling than anything in the script), the film follows L.A. County juvenile-corrections officer Sean Porter (Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson), an ex-jock frustrated by the revolving door recidivism and increasing mortality rate of his teenage charges. Under the wary gaze of his superiors, he forms a ramshackle football team, which is soon competing against local high schools.

The script may suggest a draft of Remember the Titans with whiteout copiously applied (by this point in the genre, the standard team characters—fat kid, hustler, angry poet—are as firmly ingrained as the harmonica-playing dogfaces in WWII movies), but there's enough energy behind and before the camera to compensate. Director Phil Joanou, a former Spielberg protégé long banished to music-video limbo, brings an unusually nervy, hand-held menace to an opening drive-by. Any stylistic accomplishments, however, would likely fail to register were it not for the overriding presence of The Rock, who is beginning to make a serious habit out of outclassing his material. His line readings may still occasionally thud, but his enthusiasm and unquestioning belief in the formula comes across in a way that may have actually been beyond a more experienced actor. Someday he may find a project worthy of him. Until then, the standard clichés diminish in his thick-necked, wide-eyed wake. ANDREW WRIGHT

Everyone's Hero

dir. Colin Brady, Dan St. Pierre,

Christopher Reeve

Christopher Reeve was a famous movie star who played a flying American superhero. Then he fell off a horse and became a famous paralyzed guy with a positive attitude. But then Christopher Reeve died, and then his wife Dana Reeve fucking died, too, and the Reeve child was orphaned! Jesus Christ!

Well, you can stop crying, because the Reeves have one final inspirational trick up their dearly departed sleeves: an animated baseball movie (starring Dana and directed by Chris) called Everyone's Hero. According to the press notes, "The project's theme of perseverance against all odds was inspired by the film's originating director and executive producer, Christopher Reeve." And let me tell you, that is so totally true!

See, little Yankee Irving is a Yankees fan. His dad works at Yankee Stadium. Dad is a Yankees fan too—so much so that he named his only child Yankee. Yankee (just like Christopher Reeve, America's quadriplegic Superman) has a tragic and ironic disability: He is not good at baseball. But even when he doesn't get picked for the team (which must be a lot like when Christopher Reeve's broken spine made him a helpless prisoner of his own body and he could no longer feed or bathe himself), Yankee keeps a positive attitude (Reeve-style!). Then he makes friends with a magical talking baseball bat (Whoopi Goldberg), hitches a ride on the "Negro League" bus (they listen to rap music! in the 1920s!), and helps the Yankees win the World Series (which is an uncanny parallel to the time that Christopher Reeve desperately championed stem-cell research while his body wasted away and his fragile existence depended entirely on a mechanical breathing apparatus!).

The animation in Everyone's Hero isn't great. The story doesn't make any sense. The jokes basically consist of a talking baseball not wanting to smell the farts of a human boy. Also, Babe Ruth is fat. But in the end, Yankee Irving turns out to be everyone's hero, just exactly literally the same as Christopher Reeve! Except—oh yeah—Christopher Reeve is dead. I'm depressed. LINDY WEST