Zack and Miri, at its core, strays very little from Smith’s major themes: slackers Zack and Miri (Rogen and Elizabeth Banks), friends since the first grade work minimum-wage jobs and barely get by. When their money runs out and their utilities are turned off, the roommates are forced to consider, ahem, alternative ways of collecting cash. When a spy video of Miri in her underwear becomes an Internet sensation, the idea hits: porn. While filming their skin flick, the pair realizes that their two-decade friendship may be something else entirely.

Rogen and Banks are fine as the leads, which is no shock. They’re already stars. But the treat of this movie is the supporting cast, a mix of Apatow’s pals, Smith’s mainstays, and adult performers. Craig Robinson is especially effective as Zack’s married coworker and the porn’s eager producer, and Justin Long excels in his brief stint as the lover of one of Zack and Miri’s high school classmates.

This being a Kevin Smith movie, it’s worth noting how great it all looks. There’s one scene that pulls down a hallway while keeping focus on one subject that, from anyone else, would seem mundane. But because it’s been unexpected from the director until now, it’s quite effective.

Those familiar with Smith’s work know what they will find in Zack and Miri: sharp writing, dirty language, and sappy romance. It’s the method of delivery here that counts. If you can’t get over the fact that the title suggests a level of adult material that you’re not comfortable with, none of Smith’s writing will help that. But if you don’t mind a little over-the-top nudity as a side dish to your comedy, you’ll be fine. It’s not one of his best offerings, but it’s good to have new Kevin Smith material indeed.

Rating: * * * of 5

The album opens with a sequence of four ironic, self-aware songs that lay out Weezer’s opulent history. “Troublemaker” and “Pork and Beans,” the albums third and first singles, respectively, are the kind of catchy, crunchy tunes that you may have found in either of the band’s earlier self-titled efforts, the first track sounding more like 1994’s Weezer and the latter more like 2001’s Weezer. The quartet reaches its high point with “The Greatest Man that Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn),” the album’s most inventive track, and its low point in “Heart Songs,” a schmaltzy shout-out to the artists that got Cuomo interested in music. The song is saved, though, by its final verse, which pays homage to Nirvana’s Nevermind.

As Weezer has gotten older, their songs have veered away from the in-the-moment, emotionally driven lyrics and more towards nostalgia, as evidenced by “Everybody Get Dangerous” and “Dreamin’,” two songs about youth sung from the adult perspective. “Dangerous” is a wonderful instrumental callback to the band’s halcyon days. The three penultimate tracks, meanwhile, feature the supporting players in Weezer, giving a lead singing role to Brian Bell, Scott Shriner and dutiful percussionist Patrick Wilson. While not archetypically Weezer-like, the songs represent a new creative direction for the band that could yield great results in the future.

As I sit here, listening to “In the Garage,” I realize that Weezer is unlikely to release anything as groundbreaking or clever as their first two albums. Lyrically, the red version of Weezer is no great achievement, and it will do little to convince the Pinkerton purists that Weezer has returned to form. But for those of us who have enjoyed the band through thick and thin, the new album will provide plenty of chances to sing along to some above-average rock.

Rating: * * * ½ of 5

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

It’s been years since Indy’s last on-screen adventure, and it shows on Harrison Ford’s face when we first see him dragged before a Communist firing squad, forced to lead a Soviet soldier (Cate Blanchett) through a government warehouse in search of a magnetic crystal skull that will allegedly give its holder a profound psychic power that the Reds can use to socialize the world. But Indy hasn’t lost a step in his old age, and he quickly escapes and sets on a course to find the skull and return it to its original location in the Amazon. Through atomic bomb tests, rebellious ant armies, thick jungles and the added weight of an apprentice archeologist (Shia LaBeouf) whose mother got caught up in another professor’s attempt to return the skull, Indy takes us on one of his trademark adventures.

There’s a lot to like about the movie. Indy’s older eyes provide a unique perspective on the events. Even in an age of growing technology, there’s room for an old-fashioned hero, but it’s not easy for him. There are bumps along the way that he could have gotten himself out of in earlier days, and while some of his shortcomings are played for good comic effect, his struggles make his successes that much more rewarding. The Indiana Jones movies, above all else, were fun, and Crystal Skull follows form in more than two-thirds of its time on screen.

The problem arrives in the climax of the movie, when (this is the spoiler part…I warned you) the crystal skull becomes a connection between our dimension and that of an alien race. After providing a historical context for the strange shape of the skull (which a far less photogenic central artifact than the Holy Grail or Ark of the Covenant), George Lucas and Steven Spielberg pull one of filmmaking history’s worst bait and switch. It’s not that aliens aren’t good movie fodder; they are, but the Jones sagas have a certain air of historical believability to them, and putting interdimensional beings into the end of a pretty decent adventure film betrays the trust you put into Indy.

I’m by no means a purist. If you want to talk to those people, go to Aint It Cool News or wait for my friend Pat to comment on this. But even I was taken out of the film as soon as that alien started mugging for the camera. Early in the movie, Indy cuts open the wrapping of a mummified corpse and the air causes the cadaver to crumble. Maybe Lucas and Spielberg should have left Indy in the wrappings after all these years, because while it’s cool to see the character rolled out one more time, extended exposure to a smart audience leaves the film a disappointing pile of dust.

Rating: * * of 5

I won’t delve too far into the plot of the movie; after all, it takes a good ten minutes to read the book version. But here’s a quick re-telling: Horton (voiced by Jim Carrey) is an elephant living in the Jungle of Nool whose oversized ears allow him to hear the plaintive yelps of the people of Who, a tiny little planet contained entirely on a dust speck. After learning of Who’s trouble from its mayor (Steve Carell), Horton decides to protect the speck despite the odd looks from his neighbors, because, according to his motto, “a person’s a person, no matter how small.”

The message is pure, and the film’s events are presented with a great deal of innocence, catering perfectly to the young audience that it’s meant for. And, no matter how much credit you want to give the makers of Grinch and Cat for bringing Seuss’ imaginary worlds to life, the CGI rendition of Nool in Horton is the perfect medium.

Of course, the movie faces its greatest challenge in trying to turn something like 15 pages of text into a 90-minute feature, and, for the most part, the added material is enjoyable, if not down right hilarious. Will Arnett and Seth Rogen bring smart humor as Horton’s biggest adversary and best friend, respectively, and Jesse McCartney adds weight to the goings-on on Who as the mayor’s reluctant-to-lead son.

If you want to experience the wonder of Dr. Seuss, nothing beats his books. Most kids of my generation were raised on them even when they were 30 years old, and I hope they stay popular for another 50. But if you don’t have access to a library, you can feel confident that all the child-like wonder of his work is available, courtesy of Horton Hears a Who.

Rating: * * * ½ of 5

For the uninitiated (as I was before the movie started), Iron Man is the superhero alter ego of playboy billionaire weapons manufacturer Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.). A gadget connoisseur, Stark is happy with his one-night stands and the ever-increasing dollar signs in his ledger until he’s captured by terrorists after demonstrating his newest missile technology. To escape, he covertly builds a suit out of metal with more firepower than your standard battalion. When he gets home, he perfects the suit’s design and decides to fight against the insurgents who are buying his weapons and, by extension, the people in his company who are allowing it to happen.

Without even knowing the character of Iron Man, I was thrilled to hear the choice of Downey to play him. The Kiss Kiss Bang Bang actor has the right mix of smarm and confidence to pull off any role, and the sarcastic, cocksure Stark is a perfect role for him. Favreau was right to lobby for him. And that’s one of an avalanche of good choices made by the director, who keeps the movie moving with a droll script and avoids overstuffing it with unnecessary side-plots. Even Stark’s subtle romance with his assistant, the stunning Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) is incorporated well enough to not gum up the works.

In any other summer, Iron Man would be the runaway favorite for best movie, but this is the summer of The Dark Knight. No matter how the two measure up against each other, though, Iron Man will remain notable for putting Marvel’s towel back in the ring for the foreseeable future, especially if you’re smart enough to stay past the credits and see what Favreau has planned.

Rating: * * * * * of 5

Segel plays Peter Bretter, a composer for a wildly popular CSI-type show. When Peter’s TV star girlfriend, the eponymous Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell), dumps him (while he’s in the buff), he heads to Hawaii to forget about her, only to find out that he’s staying at the same resort as Sarah and her new rocker lothario boyfriend (Russell Brand).

It’s a predictable predicament, sure, but Segel’s writing sparkles in what easily could have been a “Judd’s buds vacation in Hawaii” kind of movie. Forget about the nakedness: Peter is far more than a schlub with limited prospects; he’s a good guy blindsided by romance gone bad. And to Segel’s credit, he humanizes both Sarah and her new man. She’s far from a bitch and he winds up being a wildly enjoyable character, especially in the inevitable scene where he and Sarah have dinner with Peter and the bubbly hotel concierge (Mila Kunis) that he woos.

As a leading man, Segel is more adept than either Seth Rogen or Jonah Hill, the leads in Apatow’s last two movies of Marshall’s ilk. He goes through the same man-boy to man transition as all of Apatow’s characters, but his maturation seems natural. Bell and Kunis play well as adversaries, and a host of regulars (Paul Rudd, Hill, and Bill Hader) round out a cast for whom “comically talented” is an understatement.

At two hours, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, like several of the offerings from under Apatow’s umbrella, feels longer than it should be. But the payoffs, sprinkled throughout the movie and especially well placed in the film’s final act, a Dracula musical, make it worth the wait.

Rating: * * * * of 5

In Fatboy, he plays Dennis, a manchild who literally ran out on his own wedding and, five years later, decides to run a marathon to prove that he can commit to his ex-finace (Thandie Newton) and one-up her current boyfriend (Hank Azaria). In the process, he learns that committing to one thing can create a domino effect and finds himself growing up more than he ever imagined.

Under a different director and speaking someone else’s words (though he did do a re-write), Pegg keeps his bite but develops a more sophisticated bark. He easily balances goofy pratfalls and smart prose. He’s helped along by a stellar supporting cast – Azaria in particular is brilliant and Dylan Moran fills the slimy sidekick role nicely. With such a talented cast, it’s hard to credit Schwimmer with much directorial vision, but he stays out of the way and highlights the copious laugh-worthy moments and makes the film feel more like a leisurely jog than a demanding long run.

The movie follows Ben Campbell (Jim Sturgess), a young math whiz whose proficiency in the classroom leads his teacher (Kevin Spacey) to encourage Ben to join a covert blackjack team. By counting cards and using an elaborate system to signal other players to a table heavy with favorable draws, the team scores hundreds of thousands of dollars every weekend that, once split six ways, can help Ben pay his way into Harvard Medical School. Ben’s time away from school alienates him from his friends (Josh Gad and Sam Golzari) but brings him closer to his foxy blackjack teammate (Kate Bosworth), and his smart play draws the attention of a grizzled security chief (Laurence Fishburne), forcing him to reconsider his place on the team and in life.

Packed with quick cuts and chases scenes, the treatment of fact here is a little too stretched to get away with the movie’s “true story” angle – even though it is – but that doesn’t really matter. It’s difficult to resist the glitz and glamour of Vegas, and just as Ben gets sucked in by all the excitement, so do we. The ensemble cast is strong, with Spacey in his element and Sturgess turning in a confident performance, though his natural British accent slips into his character more often than it should.

Is 21 a perfect movie; something that will be competing next awards season? Certainly not, and it doesn’t seem to aspire to such lofty heights. But in a climate of some pretty lame offerings at the theater, it’s a safe bet.

Rating: * * * ½ of 5

It’s good to be back.