The Kids Are Alright

Norah wins the staring contest despite Nick's last-ditch strategy.

Michael Cera has been typecast. For anyone who has followed his brief career, this is not news. It's just a testament to the myopia of casting directors and the dearth of actors that can portray the prototypical American teen in all his awkward glory as effectively as Cera. The titular Nick in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist is not a stretch for the young actor. Even if Nick is saddled with the cliches of today's youth centered movies like being in a band (I mean, who isn't?) and driving a vehicle with kitsch cred (what, they couldn't find a Gremlin?) Cera effortlessly slips into the role of Nick. Can he be too far from Cera's real life persona? Nick's Norah is played by the relatively unknown Kat Dennings. She's the girl in high school who can only be fully appreciated in hindsight, unless you're Nick. He knows there's something different about this girl. Norah is drawn to Nick too, even though he's hung up on his ex. Of course, these kids are cagey, and they know they belong together, even if they're not sure why.

It's refreshing that the high school romance drama has been elevated to this. Thanks to geek chic, the nerds are no longer the spectacle wearing next-door neighbor/best friend waiting to be noticed for his/her inner beauty by the football team captain/prom queen, and there's no high school feudal system, the basis for tension during the 80's heyday of teen movies. Screenwriter Lorene Scafaria dispenses with those trappings to give us what is the new template for the youth-centered rom-com. Think When Harry Met Sally but with teenagers and compressed to less than 24 hours. Boy meets girl. Sparks fly. Boy and girl try to screw it up. SPOILER ALERT! Boy and girl get together despite themselves. Certain cinematic youth staples endure with a slight twist: The plot is driven by coincidence but doesn't feel contrived. The villainous ex-girlfriend actually has second thoughts about kicking her old beau to the curb. The main character's sidekicks are all young gay men, and the drunk party girl is a generally good-hearted foil to the film's heroine in between bouts of chewing the scenery.

That scenery is the icing atop Nick and Norah. Director Peter Sollett films it as a valentine to New York City as much as one to budding love. The Big Apple feels quirky, warm, inviting and safe, and this New York, New York might as well be the Modesto, California of American Graffiti. These kids cruise its concrete and glass corridors with ease and without the aid of GPS.

Then there's the music and the ubiquitous playlist of the title. Beyond the synergistic yoking of a surefire bestseller soundtrack, the film is about the ways that music connects people. If there's a heady insight to be had in this breezy film, it's that mutual love of tunes may be the best predictor for a successful relationship. It's a simple premise, but it's a simple film about good-natured kids fighting through their hang-ups and following their bliss. When the sun comes up on Nick and Norah's all nighter, we suspend our cynicism. These two belong together.

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Michael Clayton 2: Settling Out of Court

The Coen Brother's maddeningly disjointed Burn After Reading is a message movie. As much as the droll tandem might protest, it is warning to those people with a predilection for insinuating themselves into situations that require expertise and tact that they do not possess, but it plays like another one of their dark screwball comedies.

Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest is the cinematic gold standard for the everyman who is drawn into a web of intrigue based on mistaken identity. Filmmakers have been parroting the conceit ever since. It's a way of connecting the audience to the story. After all, this could happen to you. This film's "heroes" are a pair of strip mall gym employees played by the always excellent Frances McDormand and Brad Pitt, who gives a broad comedic performance that turns his beefcake persona on its head. Here they aren't the victims of dangerous machinations that send them meandering aimlessly into harm's way. On the contrary, through a serious of laughable and self-important and self-serving missteps they uncork a chain of catastrophic events when they try to shop around the benign memoirs of a disgruntled ex-CIA employee to the highest bidder so McDormand can afford the plastic surgery that her health insurance will not cover. How the pair come into possession of the CD containing this manuscript is laughable in and of itself, and just as arbitrary as the rest of the plot. It's like the cinematic equivalent of string theory.

The joke is that no one gives a rat's ass about the memoirs except for their author, a seething, cuckolded, scotch-soaked cauldron of male impotency who has reached his breaking point, played by John Malkovich. While it is comical that the film's most menacing character is this ivy-leaguer and former CIA paper-pusher, it's the rest of the self-centered dopes that are far more dangerous. Even the CIA chief who receives periodic updates on the film's surprisingly high body count in the form of hilarious (and tidily matter-of-fact) reports given to him by a subordinate is only interested in saving himself a lot of paperwork. As the credits roll, it's a commentary on the film itself that these intermissions are its most memorable scenes. Maybe the brothers Coen should have just had these two tell us what happened to their little terrarium of morons instead of taking great pains to show us every tic.

Underneath the zany plot the film actually does present characters with real (albeit skewed) emotions, but the Coen's keep all that messiness at arm's length. For example, McDormand and George Clooney's search for love in all the wrong places could play as a poignant little independent film in another auteur's hands, but the Coens' penchant for high farce in Burn After Reading throws this fledgling relationship atop the ash pile along with everything else. In the end, the film is just an elaborate mousetrap, and as for that commentary on people swimming out of their depth: If you find a CD full of personal files on the locker room floor, just take it to the lost and found.