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Kim Seung-Keun has reached his end. Mounting debt and the loss of all that he holds dear leaves him contemplating his mortality on a busy bridge high above the Han River. He chooses to take the plunge. As proof that God has enjoys a good bit of irony, the non-swimming Mr. Kim wakes up on an island within eyesight of the city he so desperately wished to leave. He is a castaway in a bustling urban South Korean city.

Kim Jung-Yeon is a reclusive, agoraphobic young lady who lives her life in a cyber world, her only interaction with the real world is to take nightly pictures of the moon with a high-powered lens, her walls adorned with the images of her obsession. Twice a year Jung-Yeon opens her curtains on the daylight world to take images of an empty city, and on the latest of these rare occasions she notices the word “HELP” scratched in the sand on the island in the Han River. Unable to turn away, those four desperate letters are about to spark cataclysmic changes in the lives of the Kims.

Suicide and crippling fear…sounds a bit depressing, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, dear readers. Castaway on the Moon is a sweet, quirky, romantic South Korean comedy from director Lee Hae-Jun that will put a whimsical smile on your face.

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April 10th will mark the 100th anniversary of the day the “unsinkable” Titanic set sail on its ill-fated maiden voyage. The first time I can recall this tragedy making an impact on my consciousness was when I saw a drawing (at a young age) that demonstrated visually just how deep the Titanic sank. I remember a feeling of awe that this ship would be laying at that kind of depth. It was, and still is, hard to imagine. Years later when they finally visited Titanic, bringing to us images of its final resting state, the awe rose up all over again.

15 years ago my wife and I sat in a theater in Tulsa, OK on opening weekend to see the film that became bigger than even James Cameron probably would have ever dreamed. I remember tears rolling down my cheeks during the scenes of the bodies floating in the water. It was gut-wrenching despite my knowing that it was but a pale imagining of how truly horrific those last few hours of life must have been for those unfortunate people.

Tonight we attended a sneak preview of the re-release of James Cameron’s massive hit which opens Wednesday night. The film’s release is timed to commemorate the sailing and sinking of the Titanic a century ago. Though we have seen the film several times, there was no question that we would leap at the chance to see it once more on the big screen.

And it was well worth another viewing.

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I discovered the world of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom novels about five or six years ago, around the same time as I was delving into Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories for the very first time. To my unending delight I found two authors whose imaginations were coupled with a style of storytelling that drilled right down into the core of my being to that child who dreamed of a future filled with space flight and just knew that there was life ‘out there’. Here was nostalgia at its very best. This is especially the case with the work of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Regardless of what scientific knowledge of the immediate solar system that might have been available to the common man in the first part of the twentieth century, these books feel as if they were written out of an optimistic assuredness that life would be discovered on our next door neighbors one day. Just you wait.

Scientific discovery has done some wonderful things for us, and the discoveries about the planets that occupy our galaxy are indeed very, very exciting. But at the same time I sometimes miss the unknown wonder. Stories like those about Virginian John Carter, a Confederate veteran, who is suddenly and unexpectedly transported to the red planet capture that wonder like a fly in amber. Only the reality is even better, because by merely cracking open the cover of the book, you can step into that encapsulated time when anything was possible and the imagination was the blueprint for adventure.

The idea of a film version of John Carter’s adventures has made me equally excited and wary since the rumors of a film began in earnest several years ago. The film adaptation took many paths and I cannot say that I was entirely excited when I read the Disney was the company who would be bringing Burroughs’ planetary romance to the big screen. Don’t get me wrong, Disney has brought plenty of magic into my life over the last four decades. But I was by no means assured that they could bring John Carter, and what I mean by that is “my” John Carter, to life in a satisfying manner. Nevertheless I have been cautiously optimistic throughout the media build up to this weekend’s release. And on Sunday afternoon Mary (also a big fan of the books) and I ventured out to the local AMC to put Disney’s adaptation to the test.

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From an Academy Award nominated film to won’t-ever-be-Oscar-worthy fare, I have spent the previous two evenings engrossed in big screen thrills at the theater. This time it was not to play amateur critic but to indulge in guilty pleasure that kept me out late on a work night. For Kate Beckinsale in leather, kicking the butt of all comers, is certainly a guilty pleasure. I have enjoyed all of the films in the Underworld franchise thus far, including the sans-Kate prequel, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. With bullet-ridden, blue-black filtered grace the Underworld films have provided a stylish continuation of the Matrix-style of film making and have turned Kate Beckinsale into an action femme fatale.

The risk of continuing any franchise is that the idea will grow thin and that the attraction will grow cold. How does Underworld: Awakening stand up to its predecessors?

The truth is, this one is brutal.

Literally.

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The Oscar nominations were announced yesterday boasting two films for Best Picture that I had not heard of: The Artist and The Descendants. I promptly watched the trailers for both and they each intrigued me. As only one of the two films was currently showing in my local theater, I decided to take the wife out on a “school night” to see The Descendants.

Lawyer and Land-baron Matt King (George Clooney) is forced to become a more integral part of the lives of his two young daughters, 17 year old Alexandra (Shailene Woodley) and 10 year old Scottie (Amara Miller), when his wife ends up on life support after a boating accident off the coast of Hawaii. As his wife’s condition deteriorates the secret of her infidelity comes to light which sparks a highly unusual family bonding experience.

The Descendants examines love, loss, marriage and parenting (with a side of land conservation) in a muted, subtle fashion and in so doing provides a vehicle in which its stars shine bright.

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