Capsule reviews of films opening this week:
"Dirty Girl" — "Elvira" by The Oak Ridge Boys was a hit in 1981. Pat Benatar's "Shadows of the Night" came out in 1982. "Lovergirl" was a hugely popular song for Teena Marie in 1985. And "I Can't Wait" by Nu Shooz was all over the radio in 1986. Why does this matter? Because these are among the many songs that appear prominently in a movie that's set in 1987. And yes, we're being nitpicky, but the soundtrack calls such attention to itself — and is so distractingly off in a movie that's trying to capture an exact moment in time — that it's a reflection of how scattershot the film is as a whole. And given that first-time writer-director Abe Sylvia is a former Broadway dancer and choreographer, and that he cast not one but two country superstars in crucial supporting roles, music is obviously very important to him. Sylvia does infuse his film with a flamboyantly cheeky theatricality, from the opening titles to the obligatory road-trip sing-along. But this vibe contrasts jarringly with the film's more earnest coming-of-age moments, as two teenage misfits find confidence in their unexpected new friendship. Juno Temple seems game for anything, though, in the title role. She plays Danielle, the most notoriously promiscuous student at her Norman, Okla., high school, whose rebellious ways land her in a remedial class. There, she's forced to team up on a parenting project with the chubby, closeted Clarke (newcomer Jeremy Dozier). Both have daddy issues, which prompts them to hop in a car and drive to Fresno, Calif. R for sexual content including graphic nudity, and for language. 89 minutes. Two stars out of four.
— Christy Lemire, AP Movie Critic
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"The Human Centipede 2 (Full Sequence)" — Whether or not you could stomach seeing the original "Human Centipede," you surely know what it was about. A mad German scientist abducts three people and stitches them together in a chain on all fours, anus to mouth, to form one long digestive tract. Things do not exactly turn out the way he planned. It gained justified notoriety but at least it had artistic merit. With the sequel, everything is gratuitous. Everything seems intended for shock value. It's hard to imagine what other possible intention writer-director Tom Six might have had this time around. It's as if he's saying: OK, horror fans, you say you can't get enough? You say you haven't seen it all, that you haven't been sufficiently grossed out, that all possible taboos haven't been explored? Well, here you go. Have at it. Enjoy. By making his killer a disgusting, socially stunted British horror nerd who's obsessed with the original film, Six ostensibly seems to be saying: He is you. He's the worst of you. Or maybe he's satirizing the misguided notion that movies like this inspire copycat crimes. It's hard to tell whether he means to titillate his audience or to mock it. And after a while, it's hard to care. The tubby, sweaty, diminutive Martin (played by Laurence Harvey without a single word of dialogue) doesn't just watch the first film all day on his laptop at his thankless parking-garage job. He wants to recreate it. And three people aren't enough for him. He wants to build a human centipede with a dozen people — which grows boring and repetitive. Not rated but contains copious amounts of graphic violence, language, nudity and disturbing subject matter. 88 minutes. One and a half stars out of four.
— Christy Lemire, AP Movie Critic
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"The Ides of March" — When powerful people amass their armies and go to battle in a tight political race, even the most fervent political junkies may find their faith tested, if not obliterated. It is an ugly, cynical business, full of ambitious people who will do whatever they must to survive. This is the not-so-shocking point of the latest film George Clooney has directed, based on the 2008 play "Farragut North." It's meaty and weighty and relevant, but it doesn't tell us much that we didn't already know, or at least suspect, about the people we place our trust in come election time. And it features a major and distracting twist that undermines all the serious-mindedness that came before it. Clooney is such an excellent actor himself, though — here he plays a supporting role as a Pennsylvania governor seeking the Democratic presidential nomination — and he's such a smart, efficient director, he really knows how to get the best out of his cast. And it would seem difficult to go wrong with a cast like this. Philip Seymour Hoffman tears it up as the governor's gruff, no-nonsense campaign manager, a veteran who's seen it all and still continues to come back for more. Paul Giamatti is reliably smarmy as Hoffman's counterpart for the rival Democratic candidate, and watching these two acting heavyweights eyeball each other backstage at a debate provides an early, juicy thrill. But the real star is Ryan Gosling as Stephen Myers, a young, up-and-coming strategist and press secretary whose idealism is shattered. R for pervasive language. 98 minutes. Two and a half stars out of four.
— Christy Lemire, AP Movie Critic
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"Real Steel" — A bad idea is a bad idea, even dressed up with all the computer effects and heavy-metal action that Hollywood can buy. And the idea of robots boxing is a bad one, creating some embarrassingly awful moments for Hugh Jackman as an ex-fighter scraping by in the near future as a promoter of brawling machines that have taken over the sport from human boxers. Then his 11-year-old son (Dakota Goyo) joins him on the road after the boy's mother dies. Then the kid stumbles on an outdated sparring robot in a junkyard. Then the squabbling father and son bond as their little 'bot becomes a sensation on the fight circuit and gets an underdog shot against the world champion. Jackman's generally out-acted by the robots, whose bouts are deafening and bruising, more like demolition derbies than sporting events. A horribly predictable mash-up of "Rocky," "The Champ" and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, "Real Steel" puts director Shawn Levy (the "Night at the Museum" movies) in contention with fellow robot handler Michael Bay for the title of worst blockbuster filmmaker in show business. PG-13 for some violence, intense action and brief language. 127 minutes. One and a half stars out of four.
— David Germain, AP Movie Writer