The Brave by Nicholas Evans (unabridged audio book read by Michael Emerson)

Nicholas Evans, a British author with a fascination for the American West (he also wrote The Horse Whisperer), returns to his forte with The Brave. It centers on Tommy Bedford, a divorced documentary filmmaker with an estranged son, and Evans leaps back and forth in time as he covers different parts of Tommy's life.

The primary focus is on his childhood, including his time at boarding school, the dotage of his sister Diane — an aspiring, then famous, actress (then convicted murderess) — and her turbulent relationship with TV cowboy Ray Montane.

Montane is the star of Sliprock, and he's watching the coming end of the heyday of the Western — and watching his grip on Diane crumble under the weight of lies.

We also learn about Tommy's courtship of his wife Gina, which leads to marriage and the birth of their son Danny. In the present, Tommy is trying to reconnect with Danny after a long period of estrangement. Danny is an Iraq war veteran, a lance corporal currently under investigation by the Marines. Evans juggles a number of storylines without giving a single one short shrift.

All in all, The Brave is a satisfying, moving listen filled with genuine human drama. It will likely appeal to a wide variety of listeners, from fans of TV Westerns and classic Hollywood, to those who appreciate coming-of-age tales, picaresques, and mainstream literary fiction — old or young, male or female — because its main subject is families, both the ones we're born with and the ones we choose.

This isn't usually the kind of novel I seek out to read, but the Western connection intrigued me enough to begin it, and then I had to see it out to the end. Actor Michael Emerson (Ben Linus on Lost) does a fine job reading The Brave. His voices are sometimes indistinguishable, and his characters' accents seem to come and go, but his gentle narration allows the material to bloom.

21 directed by Robert Luketic (starring Jim Sturgess, Kevin Spacey, Laurence Fishburne, Kate Bosworth)

21 (2008). Screenplay by Peter Steinfeld and Allan Loeb from the book Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich.

Ben Campbell (Jim Sturgess) is a brilliant MIT student on his way to Harvard Medical School. He's already been accepted, but the money is an issue. Ben is up for a full scholarship, but so are 76 other people, and he has spent so much time studying, he's had little opportunity for the "life experience" the scholarship board seeks from that one "dazzling" candidate that deserves the $300,000 free ride.

So, when his Nonlinear Equations professor, Mickey Rosa (Kevin Spacey), recruits him to his team of other brilliant students to count cards in Las Vegas casinos, he reluctantly accepts — on the condition that once he's earned the three-hundred grand, he's out.

Spacey is electric as Professor Rosa, but it's Sturgess's work as Ben Campbell that grounds this flight of fancy in reality. He is instantly likable, and his troubles are relatable, even though few people have actually experienced them. Laurence Fishburne also has a nice turn as ultra-intimidating security man Cole Williams, a man who does whatever it takes to keep his job in an increasingly computer-controlled arena.

Though it's supposedly based on a true story, 21 is pure Hollywood all the way. From its underprivileged hero given the opportunity of a lifetime, to its instant inclusion of the hero's dream love interest (here Kate Bosworth), to how Ben drops his geek friends once he gets the chance to hang out with cooler people, to how the student surpasses the teacher.

The first portion of the movie is so predictable, in fact — and so spelled-out for the general audience — that it's a struggle just to get through to the interesting portion: the actual Vegas scenes. As a whole, however, 21 is a lot of fun, and I was surprised at how much I thought about it after it was over, especially that insipid but catchy phrase, "Winner, winner, chicken dinner."

Sleuth (2007) directed by Kenneth Branagh (starring Michael Caine, Jude Law)

Sleuth (2007). Screenplay by Harold Pinter from the play by Anthony Shaffer.

Successful crime novelist Andrew Wyke (Michael Caine) invites actor and sometime hairdresser Milo Tindle (Jude Law) out to his English country home to discuss the woman they have in common: Andrew's wife Maggie. What follows is an elaborate game of wits that can have only one winner. Or is there a winner at all?

The original 1972 Sleuth is one of my favorite movies, so I went into this one with both curiosity and trepidation. I knew it wasn't possible to equate the experience of the original, but with a Harold Pinter script, Kenneth Branagh directing, and Michael Caine as Andrew, I knew I simply had to see what happened. (By pure coincidence, I watched both this and Sweeney Todd in the same week, and they're both remakes of favorites.)

I was both disappointed and pleased. The first hour of the 2007 Sleuth basically replicates the first two-thirds of the 1972 version, up to and including a visit from the police inspector (a small role that is nonetheless pivotal), but in a way that feels very much cut to the bone. All the details are there, but little of the emotion. The meeting of these two should be fraught with tension, but Pinter's screenplay wants so much to just get on with the proceedings that it feels rushed.

From that first hour, however, events begin to depart from the Anthony Shaffer play that is the source. And, similarly, from that point on, things get really interesting for the viewer expecting a retread of the original. In an interview on the DVD, Pinter states that prior to being asked to write this script, he had neither seen the movie nor read the play. He was therefore able to give it his own stamp. And he does indeed. The tone of the final third is completely different from its predecessor, with tonal changes both modern and unexpected (though not necessarily to fans of other Michael Caine films, Deathtrap in particular).

Caine and Law are well paired here. Having played Milo in the original to Laurence Olivier's Andrew, Caine has firsthand seen the role done definitively. Luckily, apart from some hauntingly familiar line readings (Intended? Who knows?), he takes a completely different tack and offers an Andrew almost completely self-assured. Whereas, Jude Law's Milo is a very modern man: somewhat confused by his woman and, certainly in this case, merely acting as the mouthpiece for her needs. But even these perceptions are turned on their heads in a film that refuses to take anything for granted.

I've seen Law in other films before, but Sleuth is the first one where he really shines through the material. This may be due to acting opposite a heavyweight like Caine (that always seems to bring out the best in relative newcomers), or to Branagh's direction (not likely as he seems to cast who he thinks can work without his help), or to the fact that, as producer, Law reportedly initiated this project for his own purposes (the most likely, since it means he already saw himself in the role). Either way, he offers a performance far beyond where I assumed his abilities lay and emerges as the real star of the film.

Though this Sleuth can never expect to stand up to the legacy of the original, it does indeed prove itself to be a worthy companion. And one that deserves respect, if only for taking the road less traveled by. In an era that wants film viewers to take everything at face value, a film that circumvents our expectations is a welcome one indeed.

Sweeney Todd directed by Tim Burton (starring Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Sacha Baron Cohen)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2008. Reprinted with permission.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007). Screenplay by John Logan from the 1979 musical (book by Hugh Wheeler, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim) and the 1973 play by Christopher Bond.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd.
His skin was pale and his eye was odd.
He shaved the faces of gentlemen
Who never thereafter were heard of again,
Did Sweeney,
Did Sweeney Todd,
The demon barber of Fleet Street.

Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a wonder. I originally came across it on PBS (the nationally touring version with Angela Lansbury and George Hearn), and knew immediately — with bloody murder, dark humor, and cannibalism — that this was a musical I could get my head around! I immediately bought the only CD copy I could find (highlights of the original cast recording with Lansbury and Len Cariou), and I've been a fan ever since, especially of the centerpiece (and Act 1 closer) "A Little Priest," wherein Todd and Mrs. Lovett fantasize what they're going to serve in her meat-pie shop:

"Is that squire on the fire?"
"Mercy, no, sir. Look closer, you'll notice it's grocer."
"Looks thicker — more like vicar."
"No, it has to be grocer, it's green."

Director Tim Burton's film really does justice to this story of a barber returning to London after 15 years in prison to take revenge on the man who ruined his life. Johnny Depp is a solid singer (he adds a rock and roll touch that is not unwelcome), and Helena Bonham Carter carries the more difficult role of Mrs. Lovett with surprising skill. (In an interview on the DVD, she states she's been a fan for decades and that it was the first thing she and Burton had in common. And, yes, she had to audition for Stephen Sondheim.) Even Sacha Baron Cohen (whose "comedy" I don't find funny at all) is a treat in a broad performance that works and allows him to use two different accents.

Visually, Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street is perfect, mixing light and dark brilliantly, as one might expect from Burton (a director whose entire filmography consists primarily of shades of gray). And even though several of the songs are missing (and large portions cut from those that are included, such as all pieces requiring a chorus), the trimming works well on the screen. (The only song I really missed was "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd," quoted at the beginning of this review.) This change means that the amount of music will not be overwhelming to people who don't generally like musicals — and the amount of blood spilled will surely keep the attention of horror fans!

It works as a horror film, as a tragedy, as an oddball romance (of sorts), and best of all, it still works as a musical. Even Stephen Sondheim (the composer and lyricist) liked it, and he's notoriously disapproved of all other films based on his work. I'm not likely to buy the soundtrack — the singing isn't bad, but it's by no means good enough to listen to by itself — but Sweeney Todd has reinvigorated my love of the material, and that's enough to recommend it to anyone.

There Will Be Blood directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (starring Daniel Day Lewis, Paul Dano)

There Will Be Blood (2007). Screenplay by Paul Thomas Anderson, loosely adapted from the novel OIL! by Upton Sinclair.

I went into There Will Be Blood expecting a solid movie, but nothing on the scale writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson delivers. I enjoyed Magnolia and especially Boogie Nights for various reasons (often despite their flaws), but in those films, Anderson seemed to be merely following the multiple-character trail Robert Altman blazed many years before. This film really feels like a truly original story by a much more mature storyteller.

In addition to the terrific acting from star Daniel Day Lewis (and to a lesser extent, Paul Dano in a dual role), there were two major plusses about There Will Be Blood. First, that I had no idea where the story was going. In an age where it seems that one movie is pretty much like another, this is a welcome surprise.

The second additional plus was the terrific modern-classical score from Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood (including portions of his Popcorn Superhet Receiver). It is the first in recent memory that both calls unnecessary attention to itself (mostly due to its use of dissonance during particularly dramatic scenes) and remains true to the film.

Most of the time, when I notice that I'm hearing a score, it's because it's particularly bad. A good score, most of the time, should be like a good editor: if they're doing their job, you won't notice them. But Greenwood's music outdoes itself on both fronts, making the music from There Will Be Blood also the first score since Danny Elfman's peak in the early 1990s that I am actually considering purchasing on CD.