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I recently viewed Gerald Peary's "For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism," at the Lake Placid Film Forum. It drew a small crowd. It wasn't aided by the seasonable weather, or its matinée schedule. But the audience knew there was something genuine about it. For the first time, to my knowledge, a critic has taken their discussion to the screen in order to prove the influence of film critique on cinema culture. The result was a fascinating look back to the beginning of the medium up to the modern age of internet based critics.

The film gives us a brief history of film review, from the early writings of Robert Sherwood, to the debating Andrew Sarris and Pauline Kael. It further goes into the age of recognized television personalities like Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel leading up to the current realm where printed media is on the way out and people look to the web for reviews.

The film asks its audience the question of why do we need film critics? Wesley Morris of the Boston Globe argues that they "expand and inform the reader about what is more than just a movie." Stuart Kalwans of The Nation further explains that "criticism is about your relationship to the work, the world and the shifting ways of that world."

Each of these opinions is correct. However, a mentor of mine who recently passed away left these words—"I believe in writing and the power of art to transform consciousness." His name was Donald Kearns, a local resident of Plattsburgh NY who loved film and literature. It is my belief that this is the true nature of film critique, as is any critical opinion: to allow the reader to see another perspective. The film clearly illustrates that many of the original recognized film critics, like Sarris, were devout film lovers. The art of cinema set them free and provided for intellectual stimulation that encouraged their discussions.

One of the reasons that I enjoyed this film so much was because of my own interest in film review. Several years ago I wrote for a local news-magazine near my hometown. I wrote a review for every movie that I saw theatrically, although only a handful were ever published. But it allowed me, a lonely film buff, the opportunity to reach out to others and create a discussion. In so doing, I met the most extraordinary people: film lovers, writers, exhibitors, musicians, professors and people from all walks of life. And every one of them had something to comment on, whether they liked the movies or not.

Moreover, "For the Love of Movies" expanded my own knowledge not only of the review process, but of influential theories by Sarris and Kael. Their collected works influenced filmmakers of their generation and the next. But as we head father into the future, and critique jobs become eliminated by online clip-quotes, movie marketing campaigns only emphasize what is big, loud and aggressive. As such, we lose something so valuable—the genuine voice of those who love film.

There is debate between filmmakers and critics as some movies reviewed are poorly received. Filmmakers may ask the question to critics, do you think you can make a better movie? Maybe they can. Maybe they cannot. The truth is that it does not matter. Critics are connoisseurs of film. They do not have to go and produce something better because that's not their job. My advice to filmmakers is to take it all in stride. The process of making a movie is like crafting an art form. Not everyone will appreciate your perspective. After all, a person can be a wine lover and have never made their own bottle. And how many people do you know who love cars but have no idea what is going on beneath the hood.

Alarmingly enough, over 28 major film critics for printed journals have lost their jobs in recent years. The situation is not helped by the current economic times, as well as the push to websites. Some formerly employed critics are now heading to the web. However, the internet has given rise to its own breed—James Berardinelli is a perfect example. He is a web based film critic who can actually write a fine review whether you agree with him or not. But there are so many others who only comment on what is flashy or the current fads in the market. Therefore, how can their opinions be justified if they cannot provide a backdrop to compare a film against?

My advice to the average reader seeking movie recommendations is trust your best judgment. It's easy to see the hacks and the ones who actually care about film. Even with the shift from print media to online sources, critics will go on. There's always going to be a different perspective out there that deserves its recognition. But who will be the next film critic, online or in print, to truly change the way films are perceived? We'll just have to wait and see. In the meantime, see "For the Love of Movies" and get the other perspective that is being shut out from our society.

Usually when a production manages to assemble an ensemble cast of some of the best in commercial cinema, you would expect the end result to be something special. The only thing special about the remake of "All the King's Men," is how bad it is. The movie is flat out boring reflecting a script from director/screenwriter Steven Zaillian ("A Civil Action") that fails to recapture the flare of a great American novel and the wit of an earlier great American movie.

"All The King's Men" is essentially the same story as the original film followed from Robert Penn Warren's novel. Politician Willie Stark (Sean Penn), who starts out as a honest man seeking a seat as county treasurer is quickly encouraged to run for governor after a school house catastrophe he warned the public about. However, Stark soon realizes that he is the fall-guy for another candidate and his campaign for governor swings into all out sensation. His speeches are loud, boisterous and truthful reminding the simple country folk that greedy city politicians will ruin them by "stealing every nickel out of your pocket saying thank you, please!" With the help of local reporter, Jack Burden (Jude Law), Stark soon becomes corrupt by using the power given to him by the people. He funds colleges, roads, bridges and hospitals—but he takes plenty for himself along the way. When his exploits come to the attention of family friend to Burden and public figure Judge Irwin (Anthony Hopkins), Stark seeks to quiet the judge through methods of intimidation. A spiraling affect takes place on all figures involved as Stark comes under investigation by the state courts. Burden sees his past ties to loved ones and friends diminished by the greed of power he now helps Stark keep, all ending in the finality of innocent lives.

By all rights, this remake should have worked well. The plot holds up by today's standards and could even have been updated somewhat to reflect the current political climate. What is more, the production had the capacity to do so with a great cast—especially by Penn. Penn's performance as Stark is not an emulation of the fantastic role played by Broderick Crawford in 1949, but one of his own. Penn's image of Stark is a hybrid of a minister and potential nutcase. When Penn starts swinging his arms yelling at voters, "You give me the hammer and I'll nail them up," I could feel the blood begin to flow to my brain again after the first dull 15 minutes.

The screenplay is the real problem; it simply does not allow the characters to come to life because it is underdeveloped. The dialogue is simple and the actors do the best with what they have to work with. But it is crucial to note that the original film brought more elements to its plot in a shorter running time than this film and managed to pull it off successfully. Even though I could not help but approach this remake with a sense of bias, it does not change the fact that the original is a much better film.

There is also the subplot of Burden's past—his love for a woman who becomes Stark's mistress, Anne Stanton (Kate Winslet). The movie flashes back to a point where Stanton and Burden are about to make love for the first time. While Stanton lies on the bed waiting for Burden to make his move, he simply looks at her with want, where he proceeds to tell her it is not the right time. As Burden narrates the scene, he explains that an innocence was about to be lost that he could not accept yet? Well…that makes sense considering that is what the loss of virginity is: the acceptance of adulthood and moving forward to another element of life. I could almost see the parallel between innocence and corruption that the film was trying to make, but then I came to my senses and realized that I was just trying to rationalize a subplot that does not work. Instead we are left with a scene where a central character gives up on what could have been an amazing love. But I did not feel sympathy or pity for Burden—I felt he was pathetic. In the original film, we never see Burden and Stanton in any sexual situations, but it is implied that it has probably happened. Moreover, we can identify with the Burden character in the original movie, but not here. The scene is miserably misused and does not coincide with the rest of the film nor does it justify the point it wants to make about innocence.

"All the King's Men" is one of the most disappointing movies I have seen this year. Even if I had seen this film without high hopes, it would not change the fact that the very foundations of the screenplay were severely flawed and would ultimately make for a weak movie.

"The Black Dahlia" is a hybrid among noir films. It is as if the film exists in a plain of the perverse world of "Sin City" combined with a realistic image of Los Angeles in the late 1940s, as in "L.A. Confidential." Although the red hearings that inhabit this world are depraved in one form or another, as are most of the villains in the Noir Genre, there is a point where "The Black Dahlia," based on James Elroy's novel and on a true event, becomes absurd—our suspension of disbelief has to carry us to accept the conclusion. However, in this highly-stylized world that director Brian De Palma has created, there is a devilish fascination where I found intrigue in its decadence.

The story involves that of two cops, Officer Dwight "Bucky" Bleichert, played by Josh Hartnett and Sergeant Leland "Lee" Blanchard, portrayed by Aaron Eckhart, boxing buddies who work a beat tracking down local L.A. hoods. On one of their potential sting operations, they happen upon the mutilated body of an actress, Elizabeth Short (mutilated is an understatement—she has been cut in half and several of her organs have been removed). As the case unfolds, Blanchard becomes obsessed and it manages to take over his life. What's more, the clues to solve this bizarre puzzle lead Bleichert down the path to the young and sultry Madeleine Linscott (Hilary Swank), a bisexual woman who once slept with Short because they the two looked alike. As the world of the normal begins to combine with that of the eccentric, the details of the Ms. Short's murder enter a realm that neither detective could have explained.

When a person hears the words Film-Noir, naturally the greats come to mind like "The Maltese Falcon," and "Chinatown." One of the most recent and best examples of Film-Noir was "L.A. Confidential," which although considered as part of Film-Noir, is actually an almost realistic take on the genre. The events depicted actually had characters who had been real people, like the crime-boss Mickey Cohen and his henchman, Johnny Stompanato. "The Black Dahlia" wants to be like "L.A. Confidential," and it is not simply because both stories were written by James Elroy and share a key character. Rather, "The Black Dahlia's" story exists in a realistic setting, where much sensationalized movie-techniques happen. The style of director De Palma is fantastic as he uses sweeping continuous shots that crane over buildings and follow parallel events without the use of cross-cutting. The use of deep-focus to portray events directly in the foreground and background of a scene keep the audience on the edge of their seats. Also, cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond often places the camera right in front of the actors so when they deliver their dialogue, it is as if they are speaking directly to the audience and to another character in the scene. This technique gives the audience a claustrophobic feel; a technique used by Hitchcock in several films.

Yet, for all these grand technical wonders, the film lacks subtlety. The great sweeping shots, the use of deep focus, even melodramatic performances all mask an almost failure of the director to properly put the film together. It cannot be denied that this movie could have been extremely realistic and shockingly menacing; perhaps on par with "The Silence of the Lambs." After all, the story of the Elizabeth Short murder is not only sensational…it is unsolved to this day. De Palma had the chance to create an original film that borrowed on a noir setting. Instead, he went for broke and settled for noir setting alone.

I have been trying to rationalize in my mind that the film's error was in the script and not the direction (I often find that directors take all the heat for the failures of other aspects of a film—let's face it, more often than not they have to work with what they are given). I wanted to blame the adaptation by Josh Friedman. However, after pondering it for some time, I suppose a more restrained approach to the ending in terms of its final produced setup could have made it seem more realistic. Regardless of the films missteps, I ultimately like the picture. I am a sucker for Film-Noir and was in the right mood when I saw this film to be easy-going on it. "The Black Dahlia" comes off like the younger brother to a better film, "L.A. Confidential." But this is one of those situations where those who compare both films might say "Gee, why can't you be more like your older brother!"