In James Gandolfini’s powerful documentary, Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq, ten soldiers who lost their arms, legs, sights or minds tell the horrific incidents that almost took away their lives.

A powerful documentary detailed the bombing that took place in Hiroshima (August 6, 1945) and Nagasaki (August 9, 1995). “Little Boy” and “Fat Man,” the two atomic bombs, not only wiped out 210,000 people but also caused enormous suffering to the survivors whose lives were worse than deaths in the aftermath. Despite their hardship, they courageously declared that their suffering worth it if nuclear weapons of mass destruction are ceased to exist.

With Ratatouille Pixar studios and director Brad Bird churned out yet another original, witty and delicious animated picture. The motif, “everyone can cook,” inspired Remy, a little rat who has a good taste, to make his own dishes instead of eating garbage food like the rest of his family. Since rats are forbidden from the kitchen, he teams up with Linguini, the garbage boy, to execute his recipe in an ingenious, amusing technique: hiding inside the boy’s white hat and pulling his hair like a puppeteer. The most dazzling moment is when dozens of rats in the kitchen not eating but preparing the food. So the next time you see roaches and rats near the pots and pans, kill the roaches not the rats, especially if they look as cute and clean as what Pixar has rendered them.

Olivier Dahan’s La Vie en Rose is a biopic of the queen of French pop, Édith Piaf, who was blessed with a sensational voice and cursed with a life full of dramas. In the chopped-up sequence, we get to see Piaf belting out her voice on the street of Paris in her teen, collapsing on stage in her late life, living in the whorehouse in her youth, drinking like a fish throughout her life and shooting up drugs as much as ten times a day after her lover died. In other words, the sequence of the film is as chaotic as her life.

Marion Cotillard as Piaf gave a remarkable performance in both the young and old characters. While drug could corrupt her health and appearance—she looked as if she was in her 70s when she was only in her 40s—it could not take away voice. In fact, what makes her music powerful was that she not just sang but lived the songs. From “La Vie en Rose” to “Milord” to “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien,” she expressed these ballads with the response of her personal tragedies, and in doing so, she was able to reach the world with her soulful voice.

Even if La Vie en Rose isn’t one of the best musical biopics ever filmed (it isn’t as well done as Ray), it is still worth watching. The life and music of Piaf is too marvelous to pass on, and Cotillard has done the justice of portraying the incredible singer.

Films on Viet Nam War have been made many times, but never through the lense of the Vietnamese-American people. After three years of researching and writing, director Ham Tran shows the world the life and death experiences of the boat people and the inhumanity of the re-education camps through Journey from the Fall.

The journey begins in April 1975, immediately after the fall of Viet Nam. Like many families, the Nguyens splitted between fleeing to heaven and trapping in hell. Although Ham Tran shifts his camera between Long Nguyen (goes by his real name) who spent most of his time in a rusted box while his mother (Kieu Chinh), wife (Diem Lien) and son (Nguyen Thai Nguyen) floating their lives on the boat, the editor (Ham Tran himself) has skillfully unfolded the story in an out-of-sequence order. The technique makes the experience more chaotic, yet its subtlety never loses the viewers attention.

Like most films on the controversies of Viet Nam War, I tend to leave the political issues at the door before stepping into the theater and just enjoy the work of art itself. Still, when a film reaches deep into human suffering and surviving that closed to your heart, the intense graphics and heartfelt performances could stir up your emotion. The main casts have done such a convincing job that they’ve come across as if they have lived their characters. Mad props to Ham Tran for not only his directing skill, but scripting as well. I’ve seem so many Vietnamese movies with awkward dialogues, but he has pulled it off by making the conversations sound natural. Thanks for taking us into the treacherous journey.

Chris Rock fucked up my favorite classic Chloe in the Afternoon from Eric Rohmer with his newest film, I Think I Love My Wife, a remake in which he wrote (with Louis C. K.), directed, and starred. Unlike the original character played by Bernard Verley, whose performance came natural, Chris has done his best to look bored, but coming from a standup comedian is hard to believe. In addition, Chris can’t act.

Kerry Washington (who is supposed to be Chloe) is very sexy, but she was not convincing either. I watched the original about five or six years ago and the European-voluptuous Chloe still hovers in my mind when the film was mentioned. There was something about the European lifestyle, the romantic language of France, and unfamiliarity of European women (elegant but have a wild side to them) makes the film seem to be exotic. And that is something Chris has failed to transcend.

I love Manhattan, but it is not a romantic place like Paris. Even though I have never been to Paris, the original movie has captured its mellow vibe. Manhattan is more like a hustling place; therefore, a lunch break in NYC is not an ideal place to fantasize about every woman who happened to walk by like Paris.

The huge flaw in the film is that Chris couldn’t tap into the mind of the married man like what Eric Rohmer had done. In the original, men can relate to what the guy goes through. Every woman on the street is much more interesting than his wife. What if I were married to her (the one with big boobs or the one with luscious lips)? Would my life be any different? Would I still be bored out of my fucking mind?

If nothing else, Christina Ricci is the reason to watch Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan. She’s hot, wild and eighty-five percent naked throughout the film. Ricci’s character, Rae, struggles with some kind of sex spell that would lead her to jump on any dicks available when her boyfriend Ronnie (not bad performance from Justin Timberlake) isn’t around. Of course, how could any man resist a sex fiend with body like her?

Thank goodness for Lazarus (plays by the incredible Samuel L. Jackson) who is the only exception. Even when Rae tries to hop on him, he runs off with the Bible in his hand. To rescue Rae from her uncontrollable sexual craves, Lazarus chains her to a radiator in his house. Rae’s still “off the chain” even when she’s on the chain. He feeds her, baths her, and sings her the blues (Jackson has that gruff old voice that is perfect for that soulful country blues), but never touches her. Through their own dramas, the two develop a mutual respect for each other like father and daughter.

Even though the heart of Black Snake Moan is an inspiring story, the film pushes race straight in your face. “Nigger’s whore” is what Ronnie calls Rae when he busts into Lazarus house. But then again, Jackson’s role has shifted from A Time to Kill to a time to heal, and he is convincing on both counts.

George Lopez made his solo debut, America’s Mexican, on HBO last night. He was hilarious, but mi hombre used way too much Spanglish that you don’t get some of the inside jokes unless you know Spanish. He also refurbished some of his old materials including his previous appearance on Comic Relief 2006. Lopez’s weakest point was that didn’t delve deep into a certain topics like Chris Rock. He only touched on the surface and moved on. The coldest part was when he imitated the way governor Arnold Schwarzenegger speaks English. Fuck That Puto!

Richard Eyre’s dark, lustful Notes on a Scandal is a film about teachers that parents wouldn’t approve but kids would love. Imagine being fifteen and being blown by a teacher who is hot as Cate Blanchett. But that’s only one juicy part of the story. The main one is the fatal lesbian attraction between the young and sweet Sheba Hart who screws her student under the train track and the creepy, old Barbara Covett (Judi Dench) who is a conservative homosexual and a well-respected teacher.

What drives the film is the superb interaction between Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett. Dench is like the female version of Jack Nicholson whose facial expression tells it. Whether she’s angry, disturbed, or betrayed, Dench remains unsympathetic and unapologetic, even when she blows the secret. Blanchett, on the other hand, is vulnerable, eye-catcher, and forgivable. Even her husband (a great role by Bill Nighy) who was cheated on admits that she’s a good mother, but a lousy wife.

While Cate’s milkshake brings all the boys and girls to the yard, Dench wants it all to herself. Narrated by Babara’s insensitive, heartless tone, she feeds us the inner thoughts of a dark, secretive woman. It’s fascinating to see how she brings the one she loves to her by taking her away from the boy and her own family.

I had exactly what the the title of the movie is: a Déjà Vu. Denzel Washington sure had wasted his talent with the type of Hollywood’s action crap that you still know what goes on when you wake up twenty minutes before the film ends. The hero character is not even a Denzel role, but more like a Bruce Willis or Sylvester Stallone. I should have known better than to pick a film based on my favorite actor without taking a sneak peak at the preview.