So, I'm going to write a different kind of review, one that comes with spoilers. You've been warned.

And to my dismay, every time I watch the movie I like it less. I've only seen it three times and it just keeps getting worse and worse. What hurts me the most is that being critical of this film feels like I'm a bully, picking on the easy target, that shy kid who just wants to be liked.

And that's only the first ten minutes. I love that!

The movie is "Character," directed by Mike van Diem, and winner of the Best Foreign Language film Oscar in 1997.

As I've stated in other posts, I started watching "Battlestar Galactica" about five weeks ago. It has been one hell of a ride, and I can confirm that yes, this really, really is the best show on television. It's not hype, it's amazing. The "Battlestar" gang deserves every award made for TV (it won't get them, but that's beside the point).

But, I did not come here to praise "Battlestar Galactica," or to bury it. Really, I'm writing about a larger issue; the value of speculation.

It's Film Noir, and it's not bad so far; the trail he follows on the quest is kind of cool, mainly because he's looking for another man, Larry Cravat, a friend of his who left him money and a letter, and who has since disappeared. Unfortunately for Taylor, he's not alone in his quest; he keeps running into some unpleasant types, looking for Cravat and some money Larry may have stolen.

And I just had to stop watching at this point; I figured out the 'mystery' within the first 15 minutes, and the bad acting and endless exposition were not enough to make me stick around for the characters to figure it out too.

Want some noir with teeth? Go rent "Laura" or "The Maltese Falcon." Leave "Somewhere in the Night" where it belongs; the back shelf of memory, never to be seen again.

"Somewhere in the Night" (1946)

Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz

Written by Howard Dimsdale, Joseph L. Mankiewicz, Lee Strasberg

Starring: John Hodiak (George W. Taylor)

 Nancy Guild (Christy Smith)

 Lloyd Nolan (Police Lt. Donald Kendall)

I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting with this little indie flick, probably something like "Stand By Me" (a childhood favorite of mine), but well, this wasn't it.

Another project of mine, The Dead Protagonists Society (an e-zine), has launched its inaugural issue, "The Deaths of David Carlyle."

Intriguing title, don't you think? The idea behind the zine is fairly simple; different writers share a character, David Carlyle, who dies in every story.

If you want to check it out, send an e-mail to deadprotagonists@gmail.com, and I will send you the PDF as soon as possible.

Happy reading!

Here's a story right out of Shakespeare; the Princess (Mira Sorvino) is the daughter of a usurping king, now deceased; when her father was in power, he kicked out the real king, imprisoned him and his pregnant queen and left them to die there. But things never go according to plan in these things; the baby was smuggled out and left with an intellectual hermit, Hermocrates (Ben Kingsley), and his sister Leontine (Fiona Shaw), to wait for the day when the rightful heir can take back the throne.

Well, I fully intended to watch a movie this week and write up a characteristically witty review of said movie, but well, something came up.

Specifically, my "Battlestar Galactica" season one DVDs arrived, followed shortly by season 2.0.

My low impulse control coupled with some extra income aided and abetted my desire to binge-view my new favorite TV show, and I have no review this week.

Hope you understand. I'm sure BG fans will. And next week I'll be back with a new review.

Unless season three shows up.

So a few years ago, when I heard my game was coming to the big screen, I was pretty stoked, until I read some lukewarm reviews and saw some lackluster commercials and talked myself out of seeing it.

But three years later, I decided to give the movie a chance, and well, it's a shame that the film is only half as much fun as the game.

Yes folks, you read that right, I voluntarily watched M. Night Shyamalan's "The Village" again.

And I have to say that the ending is just as hackneyed and unbelievable as it was the first time around. But damn if the rest of the movie (say, the first hour and 15 minutes or so) is still as compelling as it was then.

Check out Rodrigo Garcia's "Nine Lives," (2005) a series of loosely connected vignettes about nine women living in Los Angeles.

The entire cast (way too many to list here) give outstanding performances (especially Robin Wright Penn in the second segment), and the movie is effecting as far as it goes. The gimmick (10-12 minutes spent in each life) works, but I kept wanting more.

Like real life, there are plenty of mysteries here that aren't ever cleared up, which can be taken as a Cinéma-vérité experiment or a cheat, depending on your perspective. Each of the characters could (probably) sustain their own movie, but after seeing all of their stories and how they connected, I felt empty, like I'd been subjected to an experiment that didn't work.

In individual pieces, "Nine Lives" is a film not to be missed; as a whole, it falters. Still, the performances make it worth the trip.

"Nine Lives" (2005)

Written and directed by Rodrigo Garcia

Into to this frame of mind comes "Ginger Snaps," a typical low-grade horror flick with a few inspired moments.

All in all, it was not a bad experience. The film is nothing special mind you, but on its own terms, and in relation to the other films in the series, it's not the worst one of the set ("Temple of Doom"), nor is it the best ("Last Crusade").

But, to me, the most surprising thing about the entire movie is that there is so little to say about the thing; I enjoyed it, laughed a bit here and there (from both the script and my snarky comments), and I didn't feel that my friend had wasted his gift certificate on our tickets.

The other shocker about the film is how reviews just don't make sense in relation to it; the people who are going to see it don't need a review to convince them, just as people who don't want to see it won't be persuaded by a glowing review from anyone, from a friend to (insert any prestigious critic's name here).

So in short, three cheers for a higher class of brainless summer blockbusters; we need them now more than ever.

And may "Indiana" and Spielberg stop while they're ahead; we might not be so forgiving next time.

But, now the "Lost" weekends and the fourth season are complete, and I'm ready to get back to the movies.

This week's offering is Gregg Araki's "Mysterious Skin."