Rocky Balboa – Laugh out loud awful, from the name of Rocky’s rival (Mason Dixon) to the very reason he steps into a ring with the eponymous sexagenarian protagonist (a videogame, essentially), Balboa was, literally, made by the only person on this planet who needed to see a fifth sequel to 1976’s Best Picture winner – the lamest non-musical Oscar champ since World War II, by the way.  Sure, Gen X will show up in full force as they desperately look for any way to cling to their youth, but this puppy is all about Sly Stallone, who writes, directs, produces, and stars.  A real quadruple threat, assuming you’re talking about unintelligible, monotonous, pandering, and (presumably) incontinent.

Here’s the long and short: Adrian is dead, Rocky, Jr. (Milo Ventimiglia) is estranged, and the current heavyweight champ (former light-heavyweight champ Antonio Tarver) is unliked.  Rocky keeps talking about having stuff in his basement, which I initially thought meant he was constipated.  But, see, he was talking about the fire to fight again.  And that’s why Our Hero gets into the ring with someone nearly half his age.  It would have been so great if, following the rousing (read: unintentionally hysterical) training montage, Tarver killed him with one punch.  But you know it’s not ending like that.  PSB says 3

The Good Shepard – Not to be confused with The Good German (and especially not The Good German Shepard), Robert DeNiro’s first directorial effort since 1993’s A Bronx Tale features fascinating subject matter processed through a meat grinder that removed impurities like “excitement,” “human interest,” “humor,” and “soul.”  It’s a cinematic still-birth, but with a fun cast that people want to see projected onto an enormous screen.  Will they be willing to slog through two-and-a-half hours of tedium, no matter how carefully researched (by The Postman’s Eric Roth, who knows a thing or two about abysmally long flops)?  No matter how gorgeously photographed (by Kill Bill’s Robert Richardson)?  No matter how big Angelina’s lips are?

The answer is “probably not,” unless Shepard finds itself in the Oscar race (which it won’t).  Roth’s script is another great example of the difference between good non-sequential storytelling (Babel) and tedious non-sequential storytelling (Flags of Our Fathers) as he spins the yarn of the Central Intelligence Agency’s creation via the eyes of Yale poet Edward Wilson (Matt Damon, or possibly a Matt Damon robot), skipping around in time between 1939 and 1962.  The Damon-Bot never ages during those 23 years, and that might be the most interesting aspect of Shepard.  PSB says 6

We Are Marshall – Remarkably restrained despite the presence of bombastic, Ratner-eqsue director McG (of the Charlie's Angels McGs), Marshall is exactly everything you would think a film about a couple of coaches trying to rebuild a college football program after a plane crashed killed nearly every member of the team would be.  Which begs the question, "Why would anyone with half an imagination spend two hours of their lives watching a movie they could play out in their heads if they closed their eyes tightly enough?"

Much like the 1971 Marshall team, this picture is long on heart and short on talent, and a 2-8 record isn't too far off from We Are’s success rate on the big screen.  As the head coach, Matthew McConaughey channels the Ghosts of Used Car Salesmen Past, and Matthew Fox continues to prove he’s capable of portraying a character struggling to quietly deal with grief and anger following a tragic vehicular crash.  You know, because he’s never had to do that before in either of the television shows you may have seen him in (Lost, Party of Five).  Bring some crackers, because you’ll need ‘em to catch the cheese.  PSB says 5

Letters from Iwo Jima – Flags of Our Fathers was a DOA stiff that went from being a highly-anticipated Oscar contender to Clint Eastwood’s first flop since 2002’s Blood Work in the span of one miserable weekend.  Its companion piece, which tells the story of the Battle of Iwo Jima from the perspective of the Japanese, originally wasn’t due in theatres until next February, but was quickly drafted into duty when its twin shit the cinematic bed.

Letters is ten times the film Flags was.  Despite the language barrier (they’re speaking Japanese, kids), the storytelling is more personal, contains less shifts in place and time, and is just flat out more concise and affecting.  At odds are the badly outnumbered soldiers’ preternatural notion of honor and dignity, and their instinct to do anything to stay alive.  Bravely charging into a battle they know they’ll lose, or waving a white flag like a coward so you can make it off the god-forsaken rock and see your pregnant wife again.  In this age of adapting movies into calculating, manipulative button-pushers with underdog-turned-hero sports clichés, it’s totally refreshing and, honestly, almost a little unnerving to see one where the protagonists don’t get to high-five each other before walking off into the sunset.  PSB says 9

Venus – Since bursting onto the scene in 1995 with Persuasion (which still might be the best big screen adaptation of a Jane Austen book), director Roger Michell has made seven films, several of which have threatened to leave the park after mighty swings, only to eventually be derailed (by, for example, the ending of Enduring Love, or the Affleckian casting of Changing Lanes).  Venus is another sharply-hit double into the gap, with screenwriter Hanif Kureishi (Stephen Frears’ My Beautiful Laundrette and Sammy and Rosie Get Laid) contributing another nifty story about clashing cultures and the introduction of an outsider to an already established way of existence.

Peter O’Toole, looking for an eighth Oscar nomination (he’s never won), plays – get this – an actor with a drinking problem.  Maurice’s life, which consisted of waiting to die while occasionally being cast as a corpse in a feature film or television show, is turned upside down when his equally decrepit best friend (Leslie Phillips) agrees to temporarily board a great-niece (Jodie Whitaker) who hopes to find work as a model in London.  I know your initial reaction might be to dredge up an image of a wheelchair-bound Robert Altman with his hand on Li-Lo’s thigh, but the friendship between Maurice and Jessie is more of a rousing platonic thing.  In terms of showing viewers that the elderly still have something to offer the youth of today, Venus pummels Rocky Balboa into a bloody pulp.  PSB says 7