FilmMattic

Flying High         First Class is not only synonymous with a classy, comfortable form of air travel ( remember that Seinfeld episode? ), it's an apt descriptor for Matthew Vaughn's sturdy X-Men movie. And after flying First Class, much like Jerry Seinfeld, I can't go back to coach.       Imagine you’re about to board a commercial flight. No seat assignments have been communicated in advance. Your buttock is flummoxed. You step foot on the aircraft without the faintest idea of where to lower your gluteus maximus. A flight attendant by the name of Matthew Vaughn ushers you to that lovely place, a cushiony contraption replete with luxurious accoutrements befitting a person of high-class comfort and prestige . It’s conveniently nestled in the front section, prime real estate for air travelers, not to mention exquisite panoramas. It turns out that Mr. Vaughn is actually a film director masquerading as a flight attendant/pilot. And ...

X2: X-Men United       We've made it to the XYZ affair. Before you interject with some sarcastic remark, let me just state that I'm fully aware that I'm going from an incisive discussion of Jean-Luc Godard's Weekend into an enthusiastic discussion of X2 (two films cannot be more antithetical in design and purpose). But there's a reason I won the Versatile Blogger Award, and it has nothing to do with the fact that said award is merely the blogosphere's version of a chain letter. It's because I faithfully impose my diverse love for film on y'all. After all, FilmMattic is a repository of movie-centric ramblings, as vintage as Weekend and contemporary as Source Code .         Today's letter of the day usually implies an exodus, a removal, or some kind of exclusion of sorts. Well, this negative connotation does not apply on this spring day because I'm here to highlight one awfully exciting, well-executed comic book film. Expunge any...

Unforgiven       I could never forgive myself if I shied away from one of my favorite genres (the Western) and its greatest revisionist, Old morality tale ( Unforgiven). Clint Eastwood made my day so many times before. It's only natural that I reciprocate the classic gesture. I love gangster movies—and Brian De Palma's The Untouchables is a breathtaking incarnation of Prohibition Era crime life—but your just not going to see The Usual Suspects represented in my Alphabetic U niverse. Bryan Singer's noirish yarn about "a bunch of criminals who meet in a police line-up" provides one of the great cinematic twists, but it doesn't boast an ensemble of Eastwood, Freeman, and Hackman nor does it provide the luster of the mythic Old West (though Singer's cast is damn fine too). I've been Sucker Punch ed by crime films before. Eastwood's Westerns, however, never disappoint. Foolhardy proclamation or not, I made sure to save a seat for The Man With No Nam...