The Pleasure of Watching.

Above all Psycho is a movie about the movies. From its opening shot, in which it establishes that it takes place in a city not so far away, it's telling us "this could happen to you".

Alfred Hitchcock was the ultimate voyeur, but unlike many filmmakers who used this as means to their specifically sexual ends, Hitch turned each of his voyeuristic adventures into explorations of the human subconscious.

Particularly when it comes to the eyes as a camera.

Notice how right after this city setting, he takes us right into the room where Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is spending the afternoon with her lover (John Gavin).

The fact that the blinds are halfway down makes our intrusion even more violent, but Hitchcock calms our nerves because the window and the blinds resemble the eye of a camera, attracting us towards its darkness, always ignoring what we will capture with it.

That we end up capturing one of the most erotic love scenes ever filmed is no coincidence.

After all, one of the reasons why we go to the movies is to fantasize about things we might never have.

The scene is filled with sweeping camera moves that approach the characters without ever feeling intrusive or announcing its presence. The closer the camera gets to them, the less aware they are of it even being there. The more intimate they become.

Hitchcock has established the fact that while this is happening in a world like ours, once we entered the hotel room, we are watching a movie.

When later, we meet Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), Hitchcock has no trouble in making him seem like the weirdest guy who lived. His love for taxidermy, only an extension of the themes of preservation Hitchcock had explored in the past.

What's so different between these stuffed, dead animals and the Carlotta painting in Vertigo?

Hitchcock who's often regarded as a misogynist, probably knew that the easiest way for him to look past his personal issues and to represent them on film would be to filter them through lenses, cameras and movies.

Therefore as Norman feels the urge to spy on Marion (and later kill her) it all begins with a simple peek through a peephole.

We are reminded this way of the Lacanian notion that men derive sadistic pleasure out of watching women fragmented by the camera. By spying on shattered women, male audiences (and the director himself) felt a reassurance that their own bodies were complete, whole.

Watching women through cameras, whether on regular films or pornography, realizes males' fantasies because it gives them godlike power.

They are whole, they have control.

This leads to my favorite shot in the movie:

Here, as Norman's curious eye discovers Marion for the first time we too feel his pleasure, we too want to watch what he's watching.

Not all of us want to be murderers, but that was never the point. It's the pleasure of viewing that seduces and eventually releases our innermost desires.

The notions of media and real life violence being related are questionable (at least not provable in scientific terms) but for a moment we understand that the joys of watching are some we share with everyone: from serial killers, to babies, to hypnotized movie audiences.

Have you ever noticed how after that first shot of the city, nothing else in Psycho ever looks "real"?

When the movie ends, it's as if we never left the world we entered through the first hotel window. Norman is inarguably trapped in it, but are we too?

This reminds us of the Lacanian notion that fantasy is not really the object of desire, but its setting. Through fantasy we learn to desire.

Whether you desire to be a killer, a thief, or a taxidermist is strictly up to you. The movies can help us find our heart's desire but their power isn't enough to control it.

This post is part of Nat's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" series.

Disclaimer.

Natalie Portman only does 10% of this website.

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(My) Best of 2010: Picture.

10. Somewhere

Like Lost in Translation before it, Somewhere is a non-story that evokes beautiful nostalgia. Once again set in the world of Hollywood (stick to what you know, right?) Sofia Coppola delivers a delicate portrait of a movie star (Stephen Dorff) and his down to earth relationship with his young daughter (Elle Fanning).

Dialogs are limited, "actions" are sparse and yet, coming out of it, you can't help but feel that the world has been shown to you for the first time. Coppola's ability to find beauty in the quotidian has made her a true master.

9. Undertow

The year's best love story (sorry Never Let Me Go), had fishermen, photographers and ghosts. As delivered by Javier Fuentes León though, the film is able to avoid extreme quirkiness and/or melodrama, instead becoming a remarkable exercise of how to transport Latin American magical realism, into seamless visual narrative.
Manolo Cardona and Cristian Mercado will break your heart as the star crossed lovers, who must cope with denial, secrecy and death.

Kudos for being a love story between men that doesn't scream "gay movie". Love after all should transcend sexual orientation.

8. The Ghost Writer

Done with gleeful mischief by Roman Polanski, this was the year's most entertaining political thriller. Its layers and secrets more fun, not because of their real life parallels (Tony Blair mostly) but because they transport us to a time and place where movies could be entertaining and smart.

Ewan McGregor and a remarkable Pierce Brosnan take their game to splendid levels but it's Olivia Williams' role, straight out of The Manchurian Candidate, that gives this film its final laugh.

7. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Icy, distant and furiously feminist, this adaptation of Stieg Larsson's novel was a stunning throwback to suspense thrillers at their best. Noomi Rapace gives an iconic performance as goth hacker Lisbeth Salander but the movie's best asset is its straightforward approach to its genre.

It's not reinventing the wheel but it never pretends to, instead it throws us sepia flashbacks, newspapers clippings and gasp worthy moments, with full understanding that it's main purpose is to entertain and seduce its audience. Action flicks are rarely this sincere.

6. I Am Love

If Luchino Visconti and Sergei Eisenstein had a baby, it would be I Am Love. Luca Guadagnino's epic work is a breathtakingly beautiful portrait of a collapsing world.

Tilda Swinton plays a Russian immigrant married to an Italian heir. The way in which love falls with violent aplomb onto their lives makes for a subtle political statement that leads us to ask questions cinema hasn't made us since the 1960s.

Is capitalism a force that opposes love? Can personal history be adapted in lieu of social class upgrades? Is there anything Tilda Swinton can't do?

5. Carlos

Olivier Assayas and Edgar Ramírez deliver one of the few biopics that can be called complete. This encompassing study of Carlos "The Jackal" forgoes ridiculous mentions of childhood traumas, facile Freudian diagnosis or unnecessary romanticism to tell the story of the world's most notorious terrorist. Assayas himself begins the film with a disclaimer saying that parts of the film are complete fiction, yet his assured direction and Ramírez's star making performance make us disbelief this. If this isn't the real Jackal, they could've fooled us.

4. Toy Story 3

People who attribute the success of this installment to nostalgia for the first two chapters, might run into a dead end when they bump into my Toy Story experience.

I'm most definitely not a fan of the first two and never held any high regards for Woody, Buzz or company. However nothing prepared me for the emotional punch of this film.

Who would've thought that Ingmar Bergman's explorations of mortality would live, not through Eastern European art cinema, but through computer animated toys?

3. Dogtooth

One of the year's funniest comedies and also one of the best horror films, Yorgos Lanthimos' Dogtooth is a remarkable work of originality that thrives in spite of its tendency to push the level with every minute of its running time.

A morality play, a modern interpretation of Plato, a sexual comedy and much more, this film roots its perverse power in the best and worst of human nature; in our need to protect the ones we love and the fear of never living up to satisfy the universe that created us.

2. The Social Network

The Facebook movie proved to be much more than what anyone expected and delivered the thrills in more than one way.

As a comedy, it recalls some of the bitterest satires put on the stage. As a drama, it's a heartbreaking story of how money and power are never enough when it comes to eradicating loneliness. As a court movie, it's an exemplary work of how to push genres into fresh directions, as auteur work it's an unmistakable masterpiece made only better by David Fincher's ability to turn a great screenplay into an intimate, personal work.

Jesse Eisenberg delivered the best male performance of the year as Mark Zuckerberg and the film's stunt casting made a case for how its characters' values are the sad faces of an entire generation. Those who have compared it to Citizen Kane, are not using hyperbole.

1. Black Swan

In Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky explores the nature of creation while exploiting his very own creative sense. He creates an imperfect world within our own, where high camp, terror, psychological drama and insanity coexist with such balance that they make us wonder about the elements that conform our existence.

Natalie Portman gives the year's greatest performance as ballerina Nina Sayers: a fragile beauty trying to find perfection within chaos. Like the actual black swans, which remained a myth until they were discovered by explorers a few centuries ago, she undergoes a Kafka-esque process in which she discovers that she's becoming that which she once feared and thought impossible.

Her quest for perfection mirrors the film's own search for artistic sublimity, yet as an organism, the film seems to "learn" just in time that in order to achieve perfection, it must compromise with itself.

As Nina surrenders to insanity worthy of the most tragic Catholic saint, the movie takes an alternate path and observes Nina's quest, while it develops its own route. There's a moment in the film, where it stops being Nina (after following her path through most of the running time) and decides that perfection is perhaps too much to aim for.

That the film ends up being perfect in its own sense, makes for an interesting dichotomy between artistic expectations and actual aesthetic realities.

Black Swan was a reminder of why people go to the movies: to be transported to different worlds, to know people they could never meet in real life, to see the world from a different perspective, to bask in the face of the incomprehensible and metaphysical, and sometimes to be shaken to our core so all we are left to say is just "what the fuck?".

(My) Best of 2010: Director.

5. Olivier Assayas for Carlos

The scope of his film! Carlos was perhaps the closest we came in 2010 to having an "epic" film.

A multi-country, multi-cultured, multi-decade drama that focused on the life of a single person. Combining classic Hollywood filmmaking with 70's political cinema and filtering it all through his truly unique personal vision, Assayas made of Carlos "The Jackal", someone we could comprehend for a moment.

The fact that the movie originally was supposed to focus on one specific episode and was extended after Assayas realized he wanted to say more, is an impressive commitment on its own.

4. Roman Polanski for The Ghost Writer

As his world became more controversial and many expected him to slip into quiet retirement, the incredible Roman Polanski delivered one of the greatest films of his entire career.

The Ghost Writer had the balls to address current issues while recurring to political allegories that recalled The Manchurian Candidate and thrills worthy of Hitchcock's best work.

You can feel his hand the second the film begins and as it evolves you see how this seemingly simple film, ties up many of the themes he's explored in over four decades.

Best of all? The utter joy that exudes from the darkly mischievous film. Watching it you can feel Polanski's smile while he shot it. He truly loves the movies!

3. Darren Aronofsky for Black Swan

It's taken Darren Aronofsky a while but he finally delivered the movie worthy of his talents. After exploring the machinations of the human mind through addiction (whether it be to drugs, love or perfection) and trying out more intimate dramas, he grabbed all of his obsessions, techniques and styles and threw them together to create Black Swan.

This psycho-sexual-character study not only proved he's a master at directing actors (Natalie Portman will have trouble topping off her role here...) but that he's at his best when he loses some control himself.

Black Swan sometimes feels confused and misleading, but for the first time Aronofsky (who's known for his meticulousness) delivered something messy that might've lacked the firmness of his previous works but felt like a breathing, living organism.

2. Yorgos Lanthimos for Dogtooth

Making weird films is certainly easy. Making the weirdness feel coherent and achieve verisimilitude is on another different level though and that's precisely what Lanthimos does in his wickedly brilliant Dogtooth.

He creates a unique universe located within a house, but makes it work in relation to the world around the characters. Watching the precision with which all his means achieve diabolically funny ends, you can't help but think that he either lived something as insane as what goes on in the film, or he began writing it at age six.

Such is the level of encompassing power provided by Lanthimos that it makes sense that in some circles (and languages) a film director is also known as a "creator".

1. David Fincher for The Social Network

Even if he's accused of being cold, insensitive and too technical, David Fincher is truly one of the greatest contemporary filmmakers. His style is perhaps too European for Hollywood and this is why his attempts at creating fascinating essays are botched by middlebrow studio sensibilities (Benjamin Button anyone?).

It was a true delight then, to see him work at what seems to be complete freedom; in The Social Network he displays a mastery of the cinematic form that baffles in its effortless brilliance.

First, he created a movie that deals with lawsuits over a website, yet managed to make it more layered and intricate than anyone would've expected.

Second, his lead character is a complete asshole, yet like Welles in Citizen Kane he managed to make us look past the surface and created the most effective portrait of loneliness in ages.

Third, even if he says he didn't do it on purpose, he did capture the zeitgeist! The Social Network is a movie that encompasses an entire generation with such effortlessness that some out there still wonder what's the big deal about it. Others just surrendered to its perfection.

Fourth, his mastery of the cinematic form is such that it takes one several screenings to realize what a tight film this is. There's a million things going on at the same time, several times narrated and yet every single thing about The Social Network is united and flawlessly put together.

His work here is worthy of all the likes, shares and pokes anyone might think of, but perhaps his greatest achievement is that he gave us a movie to discuss over decades to come. Fincher seems fully aware that the greatest cinema doesn't stop living after the credits end, it moves with the audience who take it with them for the rest of their lives.

(My) Best of 2010: Actress.

5. Hilda Péter in Katalin Varga

Some of 2010's greatest female performances had actresses playing heroines of archetypal myths, fairy tales and urban legends (off the top of my head, Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone, Paprika Steen in Applaus and my number one choice come to mind...)

Few played them with the authority and command of Hilda Péter; playing the title role she's the embodiment of motherhood at its most primal.

In the film, Katalin is vanished from her village, after her husband discovers their child was fathered by another man. Instead of begging for forgiveness, Katalin decides to leave with a mission: to kill the man who raped her years before.

The directorial debut of Peter Strickland bursts with natural beauty (Terrence Malick must've influenced him) and an Eastern European, ominous dread worthy of Lars von Trier. Péter shines in all of her scenes, giving a performance so committed and steady that you never catch her trying. Katalin acts as if commanded by the gods but we know Péter is the driving force behind.

4. Noomi Rapace in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Modern legend has it, that when Stieg Larsson was writing The Millennium Trilogy, he had originally centered it on journalist Mikael Blomkvist. The character of goth hacker Lisbeth Salander was just a peripheral creation.

Then he realized that Lisbeth was getting out of his hands and overtaking his original intentions. When the books were adapted into films, Lisbeth continued her bewitching effect over popular culture as the beautiful Noomi Rapace took on the role.

Making Lisbeth's introverted nature and her violent demeanor, all her own, Rapace delivered an action heroine that had us rooting for her unconventional methods, even when we could detect a morbid sense of evil delight in her deceiving, crooked smile. Because we don't know whether to love or fear her, Lisbeth Salander gets under your skin.

Rapace's "best" performance might not be in the first movie but without her iconic work in the first installment we wouldn't be curious about the rest of the series.

Perhaps in the very same way that Larsson found himself typing her name compulsively page after page.

3. Tilda Swinton in I Am Love

Like some of the greatest screen icons, Tilda Swinton has the ability to take violent hold of the screen and command our eyes towards her, just as she can blend herself in the background with distressing effortlessness.

In Luca Guadagnino's operatic I Am Love, she does the latter, turning in a beautifully quiet performance as Emma Recchi.

We learn that she's a Russian immigrant who married an Italian heir, but other than that her character flowers in front of our eyes with each passing scene. As usual Swinton impresses; her Russian accent over her mastery of Italian is unique to say the least, but the beauty of Emma is how she allows us to watch her being seduced (by food, by the senses, by idealism, by a younger man...) without the self-consciousness that comes whenever "sinful" or forbidden behavior is portrayed onscreen.

If you thought you'd seen Tilda do it all, think again. She makes eating a meal seem like a master course in acting.

2. Nicole Kidman in Rabbit Hole

Becca is a truly damaged soul who lost all the will to live after the death of her only child. However she doesn't opt for an easy path of destruction, instead she lives her life as penance for not having been there, for not having seen...

Yet seen through the eyes of Nicole Kidman, her tragic character reaches an unexpected amount of humanity and soul.

Watching the actress take control of this controlling character, is watching something that resembles supernatural possession. Kidman breathes each of Becca's breath. She lives her pain and delivers a uniquely crushing portrayal of self pity and eventual enlightenment.

When Becca achieves catharsis, she does it in the most unexpected of places and under the strangest circumstances, with Kidman acting as her very own exorcist.

1. Natalie Portman in Black Swan

The first time I watched Black Swan I hated it. Its crescendo of ballet, histrionics and horror seemed like a parody in the making. One thing blew my mind off though, and that was Natalie Portman.

Her performance is unlike anything she's ever done before and not because she plays an insane person but because it's the first time where she completely surrenders to the power of her creation.

In the past, whenever she attempted to play "dark", you could see her acting, she's an actress who has trouble hiding discomfort and it usually gets the bes of her. But playing ballerina Nina Sayers in Darren Aronofsky's masterpiece, she tapped on a level of artistry that's both disturbing and inviting.

As Nina goes from mommy's girl to Kafkaesque tragedy, we see that Portman has vanished. How could she not you might say when she's playing a ballerina, who's playing two different characters. Yet the truth is that her performance is effective because it goes beyond technique and mannerisms (bonus points for acting so seamlessly along with the visual effects, something she never achieved in those little space fantasy movies...).

There's one particular scene that lingers long after the credits have rolled and it's the one where Nina realizes what she's done, minutes before her big performance.

Then and there she makes a choice and it's so powerful that even we feel it, for a second Nina stares right into the camera, right into our eyes and she's telling us "I will give you the show of a lifetime, even if it kills me".

As her harsh director in the movie asks her to try harder, the truth is that Natalie has done it all along. The moment the movie begins Rothbart has already put his spell on her, she's been the black swan all along.

A Trip to Illusion.

"They told me to take a streetcar named Desire, and then transfer to once called Cemeteries and ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields"

- Blanche DuBois

True story: when I visited New Orleans in 2001, I spent an entire afternoon looking for the place where A Streetcar Named Desire takes place.

Deep inside I knew that I would never find the exact same house where Blanche DuBois loses her mind. I knew it was a set.

Yet the illusion of finding a place I cherished in my mind, defied my better judgment and I ended up circling and circling the city - Williams' play in hand- until I arrived at the exact destination pointed out in the play.

Not so surprisingly I reached a dead end, Elysian Fields after all, was the resting place of the gods. The address in the book led me to a place filled with square grey buildings, devoid of any personality and most definitely not the place where Stanley Kowalski screamed his legendary "Hey Stella!".

Reflecting on the experience, I'd taken the trip Blanche DuBois (Vivien Leigh) took. She arrived to an unknown place, carrying nothing but hope and left filled with disappointment and loss of illusion.

This doesn't stop her, however, from taking on this very journey each and every time the play is performed, or whenever the movie is played somewhere.

Blanche's is condemned to try and find her world of enchantment .

This is beautifully expressed in Elia Kazan's film through the use of mirrors. When we first meet Blanche, she's quite keen on looking glasses.

The camera often catches her near a mirror in Stella's house, and said object takes on a significant role whenever the heroine has to confront herself.

Yet as the movie unfolds, Blanche's reflection is seen less and less. Other characters are framed on the mirror while Blanche loses her mind and stops looking at herself.

During one of the film's crucial scenes, her lover Mitch (Karl Malden), arrives drunk at her house asking for explanations to the stories he'e heard about her.

Before opening the door, Blanche takes a look in the mirror, but we are not allowed to see what she sees. Perhaps her reflection has become too distorted for us to watch.

When Mitch confronts her and demands to see her face up close, we are given that "privilege", but Blanche isn't. Mitch grabs her and throws her, but the mirror is now beside her.

She closes her eyes in horror. She refuses to see what she's become and she's also afarid to see what Mitch sees- the eyes being a mirror of sorts.

This leads us to my favorite shot in the movie.

Here Blanche has completely lost her mind. She dresses up in her best clothes and pretends she's at one of the balls she used to attend during her prime.

Blanche never looks more lovely than in this scene and through the composition, Kazan lets us know what will become of the tragic heroine.

Notice how Blanche looks lovingly to the right, convinced that she's in the presence of something divine (she even asks this space if she can rest her head on its shoulder).

In western spirituality, the right symbolizes the power of God, and more than that: his authority.

We understand then why Blanche declares "suddenly there is God" (in that scene she's in the right, Mitch stands to the left). The left then would come to symbolize, the antithesis of God.

Even in Buddhism, the right represents compassion, the left embodies emptiness.

The mirror to the left tells us that Blanche has let go of the earthly influence and has surrendered to the power of her own version of god. The one that shall grant her happiness and kindness, in the midst of chaos.

This illusion is lost when Stanley enters the scene and turns on the light.

In the bible, eating from the tree of knowledge sent Eve spiraling towards perdition. In Streetcar, the light makes Blanche aware of her insanity.

Next time the mirror comes up she's in the middle of a quarrel with her brother in law. She holds a white handkerchief in front of the mirror, as if asking for a truce.

The mirror refuses her and as Stanley attacks her, even turns its back on Blanche. She turned her back to reality and now reality is making its own justice.

As Blanche falls victim to Stanley's attack, the mirror shatters.

Reality is no longer an option for Blanche.

The last time we see the mirror, we see it behind a curtain that serves as a filter between the camera and the reality of the film.

We understand now that Blanche isn't part of our world at all, the mirror-which has conspicuously been put back together-reflects Blanche's split personalities. Now there's two of her: the one in the physical world and the one that has gone to the actual limbo of Elysian Fields.

Notice how neither has a complete face.

She no longer knows who she is and neither do we.

Illusion has prevailed, even as hope has completely vanished.

- This post is part of The Film Experience's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot".

‎"It's not the having, it's the getting." - Elizabeth Taylor

(My) Best of 2010: Actor.

5. Mark Wahlberg in The Fighter

Wahlberg's performance in The Fighter is a knockout simply because it's not. While the actors and characters around him indulge in method acting and quirky, over the top, characterizations, he simply is.

Playing real life boxer Micky Ward, he seems to leave behind all traces of self importance and plays him like a man conflicted with the world around him. Doubting whether to stay true to family, duty or self, he subtly invades everyone's world as they try to invade his'.

Watch him in scenes with Christian Bale, during which he exudes fraternal love through tiny smiles and prideful eyes. Then watch him in scenes with Melissa Leo, who plays his mom, and observe how he disguises exasperation with obligation.

His scenes with Amy Adams are the real treat though; she plays his girlfriend and it's with her that we see him truly shine. An innocent hand grab becomes sublime support, a silence becomes an argument and a shrug opens up a world of painful possibilities, the likes of which he never exhibits in the ring. His performance proves that you don't have to wear your heart on your sleeve to show your humanity.

4. Manolo Cardona in Undertow

It must not be easy playing a symbol, and Manolo Cardona does it with such ease, that his performance becomes devastating and haunting.

As a gay artist in love with a sexually confused fisherman, he symbolizes art, homosexuality and unspeakable love, yet he never turns his character into a mere vessel.

He still plays him with the traits of a full rounded person and his eyes still look from the screen with pain and piercing desperation.

When the movie literally turns him into a symbol, he preserves this core and becomes an embodiment of memory and how its overreaching power can comfort or destroy us.

3. Edgar Ramírez in Carlos

Few actors are able to turn crime into charisma, yet Ramírez does it as famed terrorist Carlos "The Jackal". Watching him during almost six hours, he doesn't give a single false step and his performance eveolves with every passing minute of Olivier Assayas' astonishing accomplishment.

Watching him grow from a narcissist idealist into a damaged plastic surgery patient is nothing if not engaging. What's more, he changes his body with such deft unawareness (watch him go from sex symbol to chubby down on his luck criminal) that you never think twice about thinking that this man indeed aged the three decades we see him portray in the film.

2. Stephen Dorff in Somewhere

When you think "movie star", Stephen Dorff is probably not the first name that comes to mind. Yet, in Sofia Coppola's intimate Somewhere, he embodies the enigma of Depp, the effortless sexiness of Clooney and the troubled nature of James Dean, while providing him with a heartfelt sensitivity and grace.

It's easy to guess that the movies Johnny Marco does are the exact opposite of something Coppola would do (just take a look at the fiery posters featured in the film) but what Dorff proves to us is that you can't simply judge a book by its cover (or a film for its poster?).

Since Coppola gives us access to the most intimate moments in this man's life we see Johnny trying to find beauty and meaning in everything he does.

Dorff is able to overcome "poor little rich boy" clichés and delivers a sweet performance that defies our judgment. His best scene might be an awkwardly staged spectacle in which he's rewarded for his life achievements during an Italian awards show.

Watching him there paralyzed by the unknown (and giving us glimpses of subtle American xenophobia) yet thrilled by the presence of his daughter, we understand that once the movie's over we probably will never understand this man.

1. Jesse Eisenberg in The Social Network

No other actor, in no other 2010 movie, delivered his lines with the conviction with which Eisenberg infused his Mark Zuckerberg. A portrait of loneliness amidst an endless world of social interaction, he captured the desolate feeling of alienation and wanting to belong, with such precision that it made total sense he was playing a computer geek.

Every move in his performance seems calculated with such meticulousness that soon we realize that Mark is always playing a part.

Even his bouts of passion are so technically precise, within their chaos, that we are always left wondering just how much goes on inside this man's mind and how much he's willing to lose control (if any).

Yet despite the assholeness he exudes, at the end of the day we can't help but be moved by his solitude. We envy him, loathe him, judge him and even if at the end we don't love him, we'd totally be willing to accept his friend request.

Sheet-y Saturday.

Where we take a look at posters for upcoming features.

In theory I love the idea behind this poster, yet looking at it I'm not sure I like how it was executed. I think what bugs me is Owen Wilson. When you have Marion, Carla and Rachel in a movie and you still make Owen the center of your poster, you really must like him.

Love that he's in full Woody outfit though.

She is the only reason why I plan on even coming near a theater where they're playing this.

What do you think of these two?