An interesting documentary that rather criminally buries its lede, Pink Ribbons, Inc. examines the ubiquitous pink ribbon campaigns for breast cancer awareness, and how — in distressing but perhaps classically American fashion — the movement has moved from activism to consumerism. Director Lea Pool assembles a fantastic collection of medical experts, authors, activists, social psychologists and others, but never quite tames her unwieldy collection of thought-provoking opinions into a coherent and cohesive entity any grander than the sum of its disparate parts.

Candid, focus-group-style personal discussions amongst women living with breast cancer (including one of the country’s few Stage IV-specific support groups) lends Pool’s movie an emotional pulse, but it’s the commingled pique and critique of Barbara Ehrenreich, Dr. Samantha King, Dr. Charlene Elliott and others that give Pink Ribbons, Inc. a most gripping sense of intellectually rooted provocation. Examining how, over the last two to three decades, certain parties have pushed and backed a culture of corporate philanthropy in place of governmental investment in medical research and social issues, Pool’s film delivers a pretty unsettling indictment of the phoniness of cause-marketing, which is what corporations and brands like Yoplait, Ford and KFC do when they ply consumers with advertisements and promotions promising charitable donations on their behalf in exchange for purchases.

This debate over the commodification of breast cancer, and the militaristic metaphors often deployed in the realm of public discussion (a “battle against,” “survivors,” etcetera) is an important one, because it gets to the heart of a two-fold pattern in American life — the cynical manipulation of a widespread basic decency in the country, and a tendency to commercialize the treatment or tamping down of problems and ills rather than attack underlying systemic causes. This has everything to do with socioeconomic inequality, but while Pool doesn’t run from this line of inquiry neither does she find a way to truly focus on it in laser-like fashion.

The underwater portion of the issue iceberg, of course, lies in the fact that in the 1940s breast cancer impacted about one in every 22 women, while today that rate stands at roughly one in eight. And it’s here, in its treatment of possible environmental factors for this terrible boom (think: plastics), that the movie stumbles most badly. It’s more than 50 minutes into the film before this question is even addressed, and the issue of suppressed corporate chemical research and testing is treated as an adjunct, when it really says everything about the silent conspiracy at the heart of this go-go capitalist machine. For hardcore documentary fans this smart but problematically constructed film is still definitely worth a look, but Pink Ribbons, Inc. doesn’t deliver enough of a knockout blow to win over audiences not already predisposed to lend an ear to its message. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (First Run Features, unrated, 98 minutes)

A hot mess whose sub-par direction kind of neutralizes its fantastic comedic premise, as well as the delight of some of its wonky supporting performances, High School is a willfully “stupid” stoner comedy, yes, but it also illustrates the gap between stupid done right and merely indulged too far.

Co-written and directed by John Stahlberg, the film centers on a straight-arrow kid and soon-to-be valedictorian, Henry Burke (Matt Bush), who takes a healthy hit of potent weed from his estranged stoner friend, Breaux (Sean Marquette), on what turns out to be the day before his deranged principal, Leslie Gordon (Michael Chiklis), institutes a sweeping anti-drug policy that jeopardizes the academic goodwill and standing for which Henry has labored so long.

Faced with being unable to pass a mandatory drug test for students, Henry and Breaux concoct a masterful on-the-fly scheme — to steal some even more extra strength ganja from an epically eccentric dealer, Psycho Ed (Adrien Brody), in an aim to spike the offerings of their school’s bake sale, get everyone blazed and thus invalidate the tests. This eventually leads to assistant principal Brandon Ellis (Colin Hanks) and others wandering around dazed and confused, while a panicked Henry and Breaux try to scrape up enough money to stave off a beatdown and/or murder at the hands of the aptly named Psycho Ed.

High School‘s basic premise is a fantastic one, ripe with possibilities for misdirection and commingled genre hijinks. Unfortunately, its execution leaves much to be desired; half-sketched storylines and scenes jostle and abut one another in awkward fashion. Stahlberg reworked the script a couple times, with Erik Linhorst (who also gets a co-story credit) and Stephen Susco, and the movie — especially its messy third act and harebrained finale — seems to bear traces of different drafts never quite smoothly integrated into one final, cohesive story. Several characters and beats could and probably should be easily jettisoned.

The leaves the movie leaning mightily upon the efforts of its cast. For a good while, that works. Bush, who cut such an amusing supporting figure in Adventureland, has comedic chops, and is an engaging and sympathetic lead. And Brody has an absolute blast, chewing scenery left and right as a corn-rowed, pop-eyed nutjob. But a deeper exploration of some of the things that could have helped make High School truly unique and memorable — the idea that Breaux is Henry’s ex-best friend from middle school, and a guy he “outgrew,” for instance — get traded and/or bypassed too often for recycled, low-grade laughs. In embracing yawning and pointless authority-as-villainy shtick, Stahlberg illustrates that, well, he’s happily left his mind back in high school. The movie High School, meanwhile, requires a bit smarter and more focused treatment. For more information on the movie, click here to check out its website. (Anchor Bay, R, 100 minutes)