The Spirit

The Pitch: As the up-straightened, right-flying, superhumanly-durable defender of Central City, The Spirit prowls its crannies for crime because he loves the city. He belongs to the city. He wants to marry the city and have, like, 10,000 of its babies.

The High Points: The photography, acrobatics, and general cool first used to such great effect in Robert Rodriguez's Sin City make this mediocre movie more fun to look at than most other mediocre movies. Eventually, snickers give way to acceptance and even, occasionally, interest, possibly signaling Miller's growth as a director over the course of production. Gabriel Macht, in the title role, pulls off the Spirit's stilted brand of square-jawed, 1950s hokum near perfectly. But that's kinda like playing John Kerry near perfectly: nobody cares.

The Low Points: The first half of the movie is just... things... happening, without any seeming relevance to one another. Inevitably, a story emerges, but is overshadowed by alienating metaphysical interludes, overambitious green-screening and imagery that will appear random and pointless to anyone who's never read Frank Miller's more eccentric yarns. Extrapolate the most extraordinary moments of weirdness in Sin City over an entire film at the expense of compelling storytelling, and you get the idea.

What About... The rest of the cast? No one embarrasses him/herself, but beside Macht the lone standout is The Wonder Years' Dan Lauria. Sam Jackson reliably reprises his role as Jules Winfield, John Shaft, and/or the guy from Snakes on a Plane as the Spirit's motherf&%@in' nemesis.

Now, THAT's Meta: First, Robert Rodriguez tried to make a Frank Miller movie. Now, Frank Miller is trying to make a Frank Miller movie. (Advantage: Rodriguez.) Not charming, but not cynical, The Spirit is wholly unrecommendable, but made with greater care than many movies that are.