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The Tampa Tribune

Published: February 21, 2008

BE KIND REWIND **

"Be Kind Rewind," the latest fantasy from the exceedingly fertile imagination of writer-director Michel Gondry, contains a wonderful nugget of an idea that will appeal to both regular moviegoers and hardcore film geeks alike.

The frantically useless Jerry (Jack Black) gets zapped by an electromagnetic field while trying to sabotage a power plant in Passaic, N.J., and ends up accidentally erasing every tape at the video store where his longtime friend, the low-key Mike (Mos Def), works.

So the two hatch a scheme to re-shoot a bunch of movies, starting with "Ghostbusters," and rent them out to unsuspecting customers like the dippy Miss Falewicz (Mia Farrow, barely acting). They call the process "sweding" - as if the films came from Sweden, which is why it takes so long to get them in stock.

Not only do people in town not mind watching these makeshift movies, they fall in love with them. This helps revitalize the run-down store, owned by the old-school Mr. Fletcher (Danny Glover), who worships jazz pianist Fats Waller and refuses to convert to DVD. And here's where things fall apart, when the whole community ultimately comes together for the cinematic equivalent of a group hug.

"Be Kind Rewind" could have been a clever, biting satire about pop culture but instead feels too fluffy and sweet. Rather than rightly making fun of the often mass-produced, schlocky nature of so many movies that get pumped out of Hollywood, he seems to be embracing this aesthetic. (Another fundamental problem: The film takes place today rather than in the '80s, which makes the concept of a video-only store seem rather archaic.)

Many of the images are amusing, like Black sitting in the back seat of a car wearing a dress and harassing Def for "Driving Miss Daisy." ("I was in character!" he explains afterward to his miffed friend. "You didn't have to take it so personally.")

But it would have been even more amusing if Gondry had spent more time showing us the process of remaking individual films, rather than the quick-hit montages he's concocted. He runs through the knockoffs with a teasing speed and some easy laughs that make you want to see more, from "Carrie" and "King Kong" to "2001: A Space Odyssey."

PG-13 (sexual references); 101 minutes

CHARLIE BARTLETT ***

Sitting through the offbeat teen comedy "Charlie Bartlett" makes you feel as if you've just watched three episodes of a new TV series you can't wait to see more of - one that's so funny and smart and unpredictable, it would probably only survive one season on the air, if that, then gain a cult following on DVD.

The fresh-faced Anton Yelchin absolutely shines as the title character, a wealthy kid who gets booted out of his elite academy, ends up in public school and becomes instantly popular when he starts doling out psychological advice in the boys' bathroom (as well as copious meds, courtesy of the family's shrink).

Yelchin has an unflagging sweetness and likability about him, even as Charlie repeatedly gets into trouble. When we first meet him, he's being expelled from his latest prep school for making fake IDs in his dorm room. His mother, played with hilarious flakiness by the always reliable Hope Davis, doesn't get angry but merely admires that the driver's licenses look quite authentic.

The second the lanky Charlie arrives on campus at his new public high school, in a blazer and tie and carrying an attache case, we just know he's begging to get his butt kicked. This is a rite of passage in such rite-of-passage movies. But what's different here is the way he turns the situation around to his benefit. Desperate for popularity, he says hello to the nerds, cheerleaders and bullies alike. But he gets the biggest thug of all on his side (hunky Tyler Hilton, showing surprising depth) just by listening to him.

Soon he's listening to everyone's problems and - with a little research and enterprising cleverness - procuring the various prescription pills he thinks his classmates need to cope with their teen angst. He merely regurgitates their symptoms of panic, loneliness and fear while lying on his own psychiatrist's couch, and, viola! He becomes a walking pharmacy.

This setup, by the way, feels like the pilot, if we may continue with the TV-series metaphor. If there's one quibble to be had with "Charlie Bartlett," it's that it feels too episodic, not enough like a whole, cohesive piece.

R (profanity, drug content and brief nudity); 97 minutes

Christy Lemire,

The Associated Press

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