"The International": Clive Owen's revenge?

Watching Tom Twyker's "The International" methodically unfold, I couldn't help but wonder if he pitched it to Clive Owen as the chance to show the James Bond producers just what they missed out on when they passed over Owen and went with Daniel Craig instead (a close call, but I'd have to now say the right one.)

Indeed, Twyker's flick, while not in the same league as "Casino Royale" or any of the best Bond flicks, is a darn sight better than "A Quantum of Solace" and - in my book (and quite possibly mine only) - a more satisfying thriller than any of the Bourne flicks except for maybe the first.

Beyond its natural charms, I think a big part of what made this one so surprisingly entertaining was that it's also much better than its trailer, one of the worst I've seen in years. Thankfully, Tykwer and crew avoid anything as obvious as that shot of the ATM with "murder" as one of the choices, and instead of seeking to make a much-too-broad (but surely well-deserved) indictment of the current state of the banking industry just focus on the rather shady dealings of one in particular.

That bank here is the IBCC (I can't remember exactly what that stands for, but you can probably guess), which is apparently modeled on a real, crooked bank with the same initials. Rather predictably, the IBCC is involved in arms dealing and other unsavory operations, and are being doggedly pursued by Interpol agent Louis Salinger (Owen, at his grizzled best) and a Manhattan assistant D.A. played by Naomi Watts. Actually, I should say pursued by Salinger, because Watts' character - in the movie's biggest flaw - is truly given just about nothing to do here.

But on the much bigger upside, it really stands as a litmus test for thrillers. If you like pulse-pounding action (which I'm really not putting down, though it may seem like it, since I have plenty of love for that kind of thing too), stay away from this one. Tykwer instead lets his flick unspool naturally, at a pace and with a style much closer to the '70s thrillers that clearly inspired it than many of the pretenders that have come since.

Also in its favor is that Tykwer and screenwriter Eric Singer have made their flick smarter than the average thriller, but only by a matter of degrees, never biting off more than it should (unlike, say, "Syriana," which tried to say so much but ended up amounting to not much at all.)

The signature scene of "The International," however, is clearly the one instance in which Tykwer amps up the action, a beautiful bullet ballet that takes place inside the Guggenheim museum (how in the world did they get the permission for that?) It's a marvel to behold, in large part thanks to cinematographer Frank Griebe, who here and elsewhere thankfully manages to hold his camera steady among all the chaos (I hope Paul Greengrass was watching this and taking notes!) He also allows the flick to take full advantage of its many scenic locales (which Christy LeMire of the AP rather unfortunately labeled "architecture porn" - what the hell does that mean?)

A final word (since this has clearly gone on long enough) about that seemingly climactic shot in the trailer of Clive Owen holding bank boss Jonas Skarssen (Ulrich Thomsen) at gunpoint. Even here, in what seemed to be (and in large part was) an unfortunate giveaway, the movie takes a twist (which you won't hear about from me) that steers it back to its biggest theme - futility.

In short, if you're in the mood for an old-fashioned thriller that's just smart enough to thoroughly entertain, take a chance on "The International." Peace out.

Some dirty old rat has stolen my hat

A lot of people who care about this kind of stuff may already know just about everything I'm about to cram into this post, but you'll have to forgive me, since I just spent the past three days or so in Ohio so I could stand in a near-hurricane and sing benignly racist (is there really such a thing?) songs like "Somebody Stole My Sombrero" as the U.S.A. and mighty Michael Bradley beat the Mexicans in a World Cup qualifier 2-0.

And later today I'm gonna take a chance on the Clive Owen/Naomi Watts thriller "The International" even though I'm more than a little worried that everything we need to know was revealed in the trailer.

But first, here's a quick wrap up of what's happened in the past few days when it comes to directors I like.

Christopher Nolan's next, sans Batman

As much as I enjoyed "The Dark Knight" (and that was indeed quite a bit), I'm rather happy to hear that Mr. Nolan will be getting back to something that twists the mind more than a bit before he takes on the Batman saga again.

Next up will be something called "Inception," for which he also wrote the screenplay. It's described so far only vaguely as "a contemporary sci-fi actioner set within the architecture of the mind." I could probably spend most of my workday wondering about just what that might mean if I didn't already have the whole week off.

But what does that mean for Batman? Since this is all taking place at Warner Bros., which financed "Batman Begins" and "The Dark Knight," one can only assume that would be up next, but The Hollywood Reporter had another fairly intriguing possibility. They have him "attached" to a big-screen reboot of the '60s British TV show "The Prisoner," presumably following the six-episode remake the show is already getting this summer from AMC, to star Jim "Jesus" Caviezel and Sir Ian McKellen.

David Cronenberg hits the big time

This was, naturally, pitched as a story about Tom Cruise, but any word of David Cronenberg getting back to directing and with the budget this project should attract is much more exciting to me.

Following on the rather serious success of Robert Ludlum's Bourne saga on the big screen, MGM has picked up the spy scribe's "The Matarese Circle" for Cronenberg to direct and Tom Cruise and Denzel Washington to star in. Mr. Washington will play American intelligence operative Brandon Scofield, and Cruise will play his arch rival, Russian spy Vasili Taleniekov. The two are forced to team up to take on "a wide-ranging political conspiracy orchestrated by a mysterious organization called the Matarese."

There's apparently already a potential sequel penned by Ludlum back in 1977, "The Matarese Countdown," so hopefully this will keep Cronenberg back in the game for quite a while.

Woody Allen assembles his next team

I'm certain I've never worked as hard as Woody Allen still does at age 73, and I'm even more sure I'll still keep watching every flick of his I get a chance to until the man finally decides to slow down.

The real question in my mind is whether his next flick, "Whatever Works" starring fellow cranky old man Larry David, will open wide enough to reach my little corner of the world when it opens June 9 in the U.S.A. Before that even comes out, though, Mr. Allen will be back at work, this time in London with Josh Brolin and Anthony Hopkins in tow.

Those two certainly will be only the beginning of what should be a solid ensemble cast, and since there's sadly little else I like to do with my mornings, I'll be happy to share anything else I find out.

And I'll close today with a plug for the new HBO comedy "Eastbound & Down," since it comes from my current favorite comedy team, writer/director Jody Hill and star Danny McBride. Though I canceled my HBO a while ago, I'm hoping this will be available for free at HBO.com shortly it debuts Sunday night at 10:30 p.m.

So, what is it? Well, along with being the title of Jerry Reed's theme song for "Smokey and the Bandit," it's now also a rather rude-looking comedy about a washed-up former major league pitcher (McBride) who returns to his hometown and lands a gig teaching phys ed at the local middle school.

McBride, who stole every second he got as Red in "Pineapple Express" and also starred for Mr. Hill in the very funny "Foot Fist Way," is just a naturally gifted comedian, so catch this one if you can. In the meantime, just in case you actually have 12 minutes to kill at work today, here's HBO's making of special for the show. Enjoy, and have a perfectly pleasant weekend. Peace out.