A forced, unconvincingly zany dramedy about a solitary adult orphan (Jackson Hurst), a woman (Rachel Nichols) in grossly idealized romantic pursuit, and the talking parrot that helps bring them together, would-be screwball dramedy A Bird of the Air serves as an ample reminder that originality isn’t necessarily synonymous with quality or engagement. It also represents an unexpected boon to the judgment of Matthew McConaughey. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Paladin, PG-13, 98 minutes)

When its lead character speaks of “a jumbled mass of conflicting impulses,” she easily could be talking about writer-director Kenneth Lonergan’s sophomore effort, a lurching drama in which various coming-of-age incidents and more conventional familial friction get pressed up against an ethical dilemma that spawns an unusual wrongful death civil suit. More than a bit manic, Margaret is a film with as much distinct, wide-eyed personality as it has little focus. Not built for traditional catharsis or even really emotional engagement, it plays out as a string of thematically related acting scene exercises, and as such is a movie likely to be misunderstood by the few that don’t dismiss it outright. For the full, original review, from Screen International, click here. (Fox Searchlight, R, 149 minutes)

One needn’t be a fan of Mike Leigh to know that secrets and lies offer up rich narrative possibilities for filmmakers. So, too, do the allure of nonfiction tales. But not all true stories are created equal, as Berlin ’36 amply demonstrates. A German period piece embellishing of the nonfiction story of a transsexual Olympic athlete who stood the chance of greatly embarrassing the Nazi regime during the country’s hosting of the quadrennial games, the movie unfolds with such a singular lack of dramatic heft as to almost defy logic. For the full review, from ShockYa, click here. (Corinth Films, unrated, 100 minutes)

I’m Glad My Mother Is Alive, which played at the 2010 City of Lights City of Angels Festival, is a stirring familial drama of simmering resentment, anchored by a searing performance from young Vincent Rottiers, whose piercing blue eyes and quiet intensity are enough to make one ruminate about a possible fraternal collaboration with Daniel Craig. The American version of these sorts of damaged-kid stories typically cedes all ambiguity in favor of pat cathartic redemption, but this gripping French import keeps an edge of violence and uncertainty about it, making for an engaging and unnerving treat for arthouse audiences. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Strand, unrated, 91 minutes)

Another nationalist, feuding-warlord Chinese martial arts import, historic epic Shaolin delivers moderately on the expectations its core demographic might likely have, but otherwise does little else to distinguish itself for a broader audience. Ambitiously staged set pieces fall victim to portentous technique, creating an ultimately irreconcilable chasm between how much one wants to like this movie and how much they actually do. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Variance, unrated, 131 minutes)

Apparently chiefly inspired by the loads of money generated by robots smashing into one another in the Transformers films, executive producer Steven Spielberg helps orchestrate more metallic mayhem in Real Steel, in which a tremendous technical polish is brought to bear upon what is frequently a rather awkward grafting of family drama and overblown, futuristic boxing tale. The nature of its conceit all but obliges Real Steel end with estranged father holding son aloft in his arms, but it’s of course how viewers are taken to that point that matters. And while its stabs at emotionalism are sincere, director Shawn Levy’s movie never once shakes free of the feeling that it owes its entire existence to external market forces. Still, if one can shrug off the story flaws, the film’s undeniable gloss and special effects proficiency are what help keep it bobbing and weaving, allowing it to intermittently connect. The interplay between humans and robots is extraordinarily believable; scale is consistent, and never betrayed. For the full, original review, from Screen International, click here. (Disney, PG-13, 127 minutes)

An inoffensive but hardly essential piece of occupational boosterism, American Teacher provides a look at the public education crisis in the United States through the eyes of those often lambasted or pilloried as somehow being a bigger part of the problem than of the solution. Helmed by Academy Award-winning director Vanessa Roth, the documentary spotlights the extraordinary personal sacrifices that a lot of instructors make by choosing to teach — as well as how qualified and otherwise passionate people are sometimes driven from the field by the rocky shoals of hard-knock financial reality. Many of the subjects here are inspiring, but, sadly, American Teacher comes off as more of a staid, herky-jerky stump speech than a fiery and clarifying call to action. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. For more information on the film, meanwhile, click here. (First Run, unrated, 80 minutes)

It’s hard to fathom today, but at the height of his career, chess master Bobby Fischer was by certain accounts better known than any other living person in the world — athlete, entertainer, politician or otherwise. His 1972 World Championship match against Russian Boris Spassky, with the allegorical heft of its East-versus-West implications, helped spark a worldwide surge in the interest in chess, while his hermetic personality rendered him a compelling if inscrutable public figure far outside the realm of his area of expertise. Bobby Fischer Against the World, a new documentary which frames itself against the backdrop of the aforementioned high-stakes match but also tackles the iconoclastic nature of its subject both personally and professionally, makes a persuasive, emotionally involving case for the dark, troubled flipside of genius.

Fischer has been the subject of numerous books and a couple nonfiction films, and remains an intriguing subject both because of the headstrong way he tackled his sport, upsetting many defenders of the status quo, and also the manner in which he sort of disappeared, “retiring” in his early 30s after refusing in 1975 to defend his title. Directed by Emmy Award winner Liz Garbus, Bobby Fischer Against the World is appropriately titled, on several levels. It first sketches out the many structural advantages granted Russian players — where chess was embraced as a means by which to prove the intellectual superiority of Communist orthodoxy — whereas the self-taught Fischer, on the other hand, was the lone son of a working poor single mother who threw himself into the study of chess with an obsession that proved effective yet also alienating, even to those few close to him. The movie’s title also serves to underscore the manner in which Fischer’s rise to prominence within the chess world took on the qualities of a strange surrogate battle in the Cold War; when Fischer balked at some of the conditions surrounding his best-of-24-match showdown with reigning champion Spassky, and seemed ready not to show up, none other than Secretary of State Henry Kissinger beseeched him in a phone call.

Garbus captures the full breadth and scope of this drama without ever sacrificing its human qualities. Interview subjects include not only chess masters who provide personal and professional insights, but also Fischer’s brother-in-law, public figures like Kissinger and talk show host Dick Cavett, and more. The use of news clips show the prominent placement afforded Fischer’s showdown with Spassky in relation to Watergate and other important national news, and Garbus’ smart, occasional deployment of slick, groove-laden contemporary tunes like T. Rex’s “Bang a Gong,” Gary Glitter’s “Rock & Roll, Parts 1 and 2” and the theme from Shaft give the movie an additional pop currency.

The big 1972 chess match itself, the film’s centerpiece, is plenty fascinating. It’s incredible to think that this was broadcast nationally on ABC’s Wide World of Sports, complete with commentary from chess experts and even a sketch artist assigned to track Fischer from his hotel and sit in the gallery during matches. From Fischer’s amateur-level mistake in the first game and various no-shows by the participants over the course of its weeks-long schedule to increasingly far-fetched and paranoid claims of radiation or electrical disturbances implanted in lights and chairs, there’s a great and engaging tension to be found in the intellectual and psychological grappling.

Every bit as remarkable, though, is the film’s portrait of Fischer, the boy and the man. This material — of an almost otherworldly focused Fischer — provides a revealing counterpoint to his later withdrawal from society. Swallowed by fear (perhaps to live up to his oft-stated goal of retaining the world championship for a couple decades) and beset by depression, Fischer gave up competitive chess, and grew to increasingly entertain various paranoid delusions of both individual persecution and vast, anti-Semitic conspiracy.

It’s been said, many times and ways, that the line between genius and madness is a thin one. Bobby Fischer Against the World shows the truth in that statement, without ever casting unduly harsh judgment upon its subject. That which would trouble and haunt Fischer for so much of his life is also what made him perhaps the greatest chess player of all time. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (HBO Films/Moxie Firecracker, unrated, 93 minutes)

The glut of studies — seemingly released almost weekly — showing the slippage and relatively poor international ranking of American high school students in core academic subjects like math, science and history is troubling, certainly, and indicative of a need to redouble efforts in those areas. But as anyone who still has a honest connection to their adolescence will admit, the role of extracurriculars and artistic electives is often integral to a teenager’s sense of engagement and self-worth, and certainly the type of well-roundedness that helps produce open-minded individuals who can work well with others. Not everyone has the aptitude to be a professional musician, artist or athlete, after all, but studying and taking part in these disciplines, and working within the confines of a team or group, helps teach leadership and life lessons that are broadly applicable, and also gives one a healthy lens through which to view the world.

This moral is on rich display in Thunder Soul, a new documentary about the music director at a predominantly African-American high school who, beginning in the late 1960s, transformed a mediocre jazz band into a dynamic, full-fledged funk powerhouse, empowering a generation-plus of kids along the way. When Conrad Johnson, widely known as “Prof” to his students, took over Houston’s Kashmere High, band was an often awkward clash of old musical standards and lax devotion. Instilling a sense of take-no-mess discipline while also encouraging his students to embrace their own inimitable style, Johnson grew an admirable technical proficiency through demanding practices, and then indulged and cultivated his students’ exuberance and burgeoning sense of showmanship.

The result was something special. Johnson’s talents as a composer — he wrote more than 50 original compositions, ladling funk on top of a jazz base — led to his students recording a series of hit records under the moniker The Kashmere Stage Band, with tunes like “Thunder Soul” and “Head Wiggle” blowing away the competition at heretofore staid stage band contests. Importantly, the band’s success (and the community’s pride in it) also worked as a sort of positive viral infection; Kashmere’s ROTC, hoops, football and debate teams all fielded winning squads, and the school was awarded more student college scholarships than any other Houston high school.

Executive-produced by Jamie Foxx, Thunder Soul is built around a 2008 reunion which finds more than 30 former stage band members spanning all sorts of different graduating classes — now all in their 50s, and many not having touched their instruments in decades — reuniting to play a special tribute concert for their beloved former teacher and mentor. An easygoing and heartwarming tale of emotional uplift, the movie is a bonafide crowd-pleaser, as evidenced by its Audience Award victories at the South By Southwest and Los Angeles Film Festivals, as well as a special “Crystal Heart Award” at the Heartland Film Festival and numerous other festival circuit plaudits.

Ninety-two years of age at the time of filming, Johnson is not necessarily in the condition to provide entirely accurate reminiscences, but director Mark Landsman does a good job of blending interview material that pays respect to his subject as both a unique musical talent and a man and teacher who knew how to get the most out of his students. If there’s a failing, it’s that while Thunder Soul is undeniably involving, Landsman also misses some key opportunities to tie in the Kashmere alumni to the school’s present day students, which could have proven quite interesting and added a whole other emotional level to the movie. That said, the film is still a compelling snapshot of how and why good teachers matter, as well as a case for the value of the continued study of the arts in high school curricula. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here; for more information on the movie, meanwhile, click here. (Roadside Attractions/Snootdocs, PG, 88 minutes)

At 72 years old, Clarence Reid could be your cranky neighbor or arthritic uncle — until, that is, he slips on a homemade superhero costume and starts spitting out raunchy rhymes that would make 2 Live Crew proud. At once a sort of niche canonization along the lines of The Devil and Daniel Johnston and a more generalized travelogue documentary about the third-tier touring life for marginal and nostalgia musical acts, The Weird World of Blowfly, so named for Reid’s funky alter ego, is a nonfiction curio that gets by on the personality of its subject, and little more.

By day, Reid was a hit producer in the Miami soul scene of the 1960s and ’70s, co-writing Gwen McRae’s “Rockin’ Chair” and Betty Wright’s “Clean Up Woman” (the latter of which was ironically later sampled by Ghetto Boy Willie D in his take on the song, “Clean Up Man”), among many other tunes. By night, however, and on into the ’70s, he was a rapper — maybe even the first rapper — who was as at home and skilled at dropping refashioned, dirty lyrics over existent songs as he was coming up with his own naughty, tongue-in-cheek tunes of sexual prowess and destruction. To that end, the film deploys, in not always convincing scatter-shot fashion, a litany of industry and genre talking heads like Ice-T, Chuck D, author Jamie Lowe and others, to give props to Reid and his largely under-touted, overlooked legacy.

In general, The Weird World of Blowfly charts Reid through a couple tours and performances — one Stateside, comprised of about 10 dates in smaller clubs, and the other opening in front of festival and arena crowds as big as 13,000, for a German nu-metal group who were perhaps somewhat unlikely fans of his in their youth. The thing that the movie most has going for it is Reid himself, who remains this rather inscrutable but still magnetic and watchable figure. In that regard, the movie is not unlike an otherwise mediocre sports team being willed to the playoffs, and perhaps beyond, by the anchoring presence of one lone superstar.

The list of things wrong with the movie is significant. Well… not wrong, exactly. Just curious and incomplete is more like it. Jonathan Furmanski, a director of photography making his directorial debut, evinces no great sense of style, nor inquisitiveness; in fact, at times he seems more scared of his subject rather than in awe. It’s around the 75-minute mark that the audience first meets Reid’s mother, which would seem an interesting place to start given his stories of how he began singing dirty, made-up lyrics to popular tunes in an effort to antagonize the white, land-owning bosses at the family farm of his youth.

Also unexplained is the impetus behind Blowfly’s lucha libre-style costume, or why he keeps the fingernails on only one of his hands grown out several inches. Then there’s the matter of how Reid himself views his lifestyle, and various familial estrangements. By not getting Reid’s own take on his divorce and (seemingly) continued lack of a presence in the lives of his (now adult) children, Furmanski just kind of throws up his hands, and indicates none of this is worth exploring, which is of course malarkey. Instead, the film frames itself as a sort of unlikely “bromance” between Reid and Tom Bowker, a journalist turned drummer, and Reid’s manager and chief salesman to the outside world. Overall, The Weird World of Blowfly receives the slimmest of recommendations — for at least music fans, and those who enjoyed 2009’s similarly themed Anvil: The Story of Anvil — just because Reid is an interesting figure. For general audiences, though, the lapses in filmmaking judgment render this World more tragically unexplored than weird. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Variance Films, unrated, 89 minutes)

Taylor Lautner makes a bid for junior action hero status with Abduction, a wildly implausible money-grab for teen film-going dollars that seems outright allergic to exploring the most interesting thing about its concept, and instead beholden to lame notions of air-quote thrills. A highly recognizable adult supporting cast (including Alfred Molina, Sigourney Weaver, Maria Bello and Jason Isaacs) indicates the behind-the-scenes mechanisms being deployed to try to ensure Lautner’s viability as a 21st century leading man, but this dreary, unexciting misfire shouldn’t be the vehicle to do it. For the full, original review, from Screen International, click here. (Lionsgate, PG-13, 106 minutes)