HELLBOY II: The Ferngully Fairies Weren’t This Violent.

Hellboy, for those unfamiliar with the first movie and the Marvel creation in general, is a large, red, horned creature who’s been rescued from the depths of the Underworld by some American soldiers and raised in a special facility in (where else?) New Jersey. He likes candy, cats, and cigars, and he grinds down his horns to “fit in.” He has a thankless career a monster-fighter for the government, along with his buddy Abraham Sapian, a fish-guy with vague telepathy powers, and his girlfriend Liz, who tends to combust with varying degrees of force when she gets emotional. (Hellboy, fortunately, is fire-proof. Because damn, he’s messy.)

In the first Hellboy film, as often happens, a sect of the Nazis were the bad guys. Hellboy II’s antagonists are your more conventional LOTR-standard mythical individuals—trolls, elves, et al. The subtitle of the movie, “The Golden Army,” comes from a tale Hellboy’s father told him when Hellboy was young and awkward. Story goes that, long ago, when the forest creatures were at war with the humans, the Elf King created an indestructible army of golden…how should I describe them…mechanical sword-brandishing lineman…controlled by a magical crown. But then, after seeing them mercilessly lay waste to the enemy, he felt guilty, so he broke the crown into three parts and gave one to the humans. The army has been dormant since. But now, with the forests disappearing, the young badass prince is belligerent, and will stop at nothing to wage war on the humans.

Giving the film its interesting edge is the fact that the prince is almost justified, morally. His lands are being threatened and nothing is being done about it. The lesson here is fairly simple to grasp: you mess up nature, and there will be a price to pay. Del Toro doesn’t pound us over the head with it, but it’s indubitably there. Our hero hesitates before slaying a giant, building-smashing forest demon—a which erupts into a beautiful city-blanketing oasis upon its demise—only to be publicly maligned. The whole thing’s kind of like a Bizarro Ferngully.

But aside from the “green” undertones, this movie is pure fun. Del Toro’s imagination is nearly off the charts, comparable in my mind only to perhaps Hayao Miyazaki, who did “Spirited Away.” Monsters are lurching and gurgling all over the screen. I have to give credit to the special effects team; they look phenomenally real. Meanwhile, Hellboy is punching things and saving kittens and getting his ass kicked and quarrelling with his flammable paramour. In one of my favorite moments, he sings a lovelorn drunken duet with Abe (the fish guy), who’s fallen for the elf princess, which complicates thing later.

It’s all just endless fun and world-saving. They even threw in a few great one-liners, which I won’t write here. I will write this, though: don’t take your kids. Del Toro redefines “tooth fairy” in a very off-putting way, which would have caused me, as a child, to attempt to rubber cement my fallen baby teeth back into my head. And possibly hyperventilate.

The Peanut Gallery

There’s a time and a place for clowns. Not clowns in the balloon-animal sense, but the obtuse, vociferous type that used to fart into Bunsen burner flames during high-school chem. Sure, it’s uproariously funny from across the room, but not so much when you’re right there and the flame ball singes your hoodie embroideries.

That’s part of why I feel lucky to live here, in New York, with more movie theaters than I care to count. If I want to see a serious “film”—tent my hands, scratch my chin, affect intellectual curiosity—with the rest of the pious and the effectively shushed, I can go to BAM. Or I can go to Lincoln Center, or the 42^nd street E-Walk, or the Village 7. Whatever.

And if I want to see something else, I can go to Court Street.

Average American movie theater : Court Street Cinemas of Brooklyn :: Catholic mass : Mets game. You’ll find that on the 2009 SAT.

If you go to Court Street for the right movies, you’ll easily double the value of your ticket. There’s no way “300” last year would have been as enjoyable without the outbursts from the audience. (e.g. “Yo, that’s that Persian money!”) Since the “stay quiet” imperatives just before the previews start receive about as much respect as jaywalking laws in Greenwich Village, the off-screen entertainment consistently rivals the on-screen. It’s the only movie theater I’ve ever been to—aside from one midnight showing of “Donnie Darko” when the first 20 minutes were played upside-down and in reverse—where I felt that the viewing was truly a community event.

Strangely enough, New York Times head film critic A.O Scott also recently wrote a paragraph on Court Street. I guess I’m not the only one who’s noticed it’s different. I highly recommend it. As Mr. Scott says, the energy is contagious. But arrive a little early, because even partially nude Spartans would have trouble with the lines.

Blog explanation

So I used to review movies for my college newspaper, and I can’t seem to purge it from my system. So I’m going to restart now, reviewing some semi-current movies until I either get bored or can’t afford it anymore.