Many people thought the comic book movie renaissance reached its creative peak with 2005’s Batman Begins, a property of comic giant DC. Though rival Marvel had started the upswing with Spider-man three years earlier, it was thought that DC had claimed dominance when Marvel answered Batman with the underwhelming trilogy-cappers Spider-man 3 and X-Men 3: The Last Stand. Add to the evidence that DC is set to release The Dark Knight this summer to a drooling, anticipatory public. But it seems that Marvel had one more trick up its sleeve, and that trick is Jon Favreau, director of the meritorious Iron Man and key to the studio’s bid to remain relevant.

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Though I’m loath to kowtow to the tagline “from the guys who brought you…” in movie trailers, it’s hard to deny the catchphrase’s usefulness in identifying good films when it comes to the Judd Apatow comedy factory. The hitting streak continues with Forgetting Sarah Marshall, written and starring Apatow apprentice and How I Met Your Mother star Jason Segel. And while the big news making the rounds is that Segel shows his man parts during the movie, the more important thing is that he shows a great deal of heart.

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I don’t care what the calendar says, because for me, it’s officially summer. Not because we’re three days away from possibly hitting 80 on the thermometer and not because my dad is bugging me for a check to pay for a week at the shore. No, friends, summer started when I opened my first bottle of Flying Fish’s Farmhouse Summer Ale. The perfectly balanced, nicely hopped brew is smooth, delicious and rare at the bars, so it’s especially important that I spent the summer stocking up on it for my personal stash. Beer fans, get to your local carrier and get a case. It’s worth it, and then some.

Actor-scribe Simon Pegg has earned himself a devoted fan base in a relatively short time, largely built from Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead, two movies that were produced in a relatively insular world made up of his friends (who are mostly British), and so it was confusing to see in the end credits of his new Run Fatboy Run that the top writing directing credit went to Americans Michael Ian Black and David Schwimmer, respectively. More surprising is that the tone of the movie is less Simon Pegg and more Nick Hornby. Nevertheless, Pegg successfully continues his campaign for mainstream success.

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It’s one of those stories that seems like it came straight out of Hollywood: brainiac students from MIT team with a slimy professor to count cards in Vegas, making a killing. And while 21, the film loosely based on Ben Mezrich’s true story Bringing Down the House, isn’t a total winner as either a “inspired by a true story” movie or as this generation’s answer to Rounders, it keeps viewers at the table long enough to cash in on a deck stacked with pure entertainment.

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I’m sure by now you’re as tired as I am of all these gaps in writing time, and there’s not much I can say but “sorry.” Honestly, this time, a total lack of interesting movies to see or worthwhile reviews to write has kept me away for more than a month. Finally, though, there’s a stockpile of films in theaters that I’m moderately interested in seeing. That includes two this past weekend: Run, Fatboy, Run and 21. You’ll get reviews of those in the next couple days. Stay tuned.

It’s good to be back.

With the high-def format war officially over and impeccably digitized movies coming to your home television any day now, the sentiment behind Michael Gondry’s Be Kind Rewind – namely, that the sterilized consumption of movies has ruined mom and pop shops and cheapened the experience of film – is easy to understand. But for a movie that seems so in love with cinema, it would be nice to see a more carefully constructed concept.

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An old conversation that seems appropriate today:

Me: What’s the best sports movie ever?
Mike: …is fishing a sport?
Me: Sure.
Mike: Jaws.

Rest in peace, Roy Scheider.

After months of negotiation, reruns, and alternative programming, the writers’ strike is over, according to…Michael Eisner? Sure, why not?

Listen, it’s not like I haven’t found plenty of other things to watch since some of my favorite shows disappeared as early as November, but when Lipstick Jungle is the only new original programming on the air, you know it’s time to create some new shows.

First order of business: bring back The Office!

It seems that there’s an ongoing struggle for the consumer dollar between the few smart, well-made movies and the seemingly endless well of total pabulum (sadly, it seems that the latter is winning out). It’s refreshing, then, to be able to find a middle ground in Nicolas Cage’s National Treasure: Book of Secrets, a delightfully absurd historical adventure that’s as fun as it is absurd.

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