**1/2

Starring Jude Law, Gwenyth Paltrow, Angelina Jolie

As an experiment in computer-generated imagery (CGI), Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, seven-plus years in the making, is a technological marvel. As a piece of entertainment, it leaves much to be desired.

First-time-writer/director Kerry Conran’s ingenious but risky idea was to make an entire movie using only CGI. No costly sets, no troublesome locations, just actors and a few props (and lots of blue-screen background photography). After laboring four years on his Mac to create a mere six minutes of footage, he found his muse, producer/director Jon Avnet, who stepped in to champion him in expanding his action-adventure homage into a feature-length film. It’s regrettable Avnet didn’t encourage Conran to spend more time on his screenplay; no amount of digital razzle-dazzle – Sky Captain’s considerable but only strength – can compensate for a scrawny script that is little more than a pastiche of clichés inspired by the Saturday matinee serials (Superman, Dick Tracy) of the ‘30s and ‘40s with a little Star Wars and The Wizard of Oz sprinkled on top.

It’s 1939, and 90-foot robots are running amok in New York City. To the rescue: aviator extraordinaire Commander H. Joseph Sullivan (Jude Law, a bit too refined to fill the shoes of an All-American action hero), a.k.a. Sky Captain. After thwarting the metallic storm troopers, the Flying Legion trouble-buster zooms off to the Himalayan Alps in his Curtiss P-40 Warhawk, ace reporter and ex-girlfriend Polly Perkins (a bland but pretty Gwenyth Paltrow) in tow, to stop the evil Dr. Totenkopf (I won’t spoil the surprise by naming names) from – what else? – destroying the world.

There’s action aplenty in Sky Captain: aerial dogfights (Totenkopf’s marauding planes literally flap their wings), an underwater chase featuring an eyepatch-clad Angelina Jolie (doing her best British accent), and Indiana Jones-style escapes.

While it’s all impressively realized (the soft-focus, two- and three-strip color takes some getting used to, admittedly), very little of it is exciting for more than a few seconds at a time. Whereas Spielberg infused his tip of the hat to the old B&W serials, Raiders of the Lost Ark, with contagious energy and humor, Conran can’t seem to get much fizz out of the tried-and-true formula. He may be a technical whiz, but clearly he has a lot to learn about the art of storytelling. (citywide)

**1/2

Those who know John Sayles exclusively from his serious, socially conscious independents may not know he got his start in Hollywood writing low-budget pulp for Roger Corman (Alligator, Piranha, The Howling, etc.).

As much as I respect and admire the 54-year-old writer/director, who’s made some fine films in his 24-year career (including Eight Men Out, Matewan and Lone Star), his recent efforts – Limbo, Sunshine State and Casa de los Babys – haven’t been nearly as entertaining as those over-the-top early horror movies. Silver City is yet another disappointment.

Part political satire, part whodunit, Sayles’ latest ensemble drama (the superb supporting cast includes Tim Roth, Mary Kay Place and Darryl Hannah) is a contemporary tale concerning Dickie Pilager (an amusing Chris Cooper), the rather dim son of a powerful Colorado bigwig (Michael Murphy). Dickie is in the thick of running for governor, despite the fact he has no real credentials and can’t seem to get through a press conference without making a fool of himself. (Sound familiar?) When Dickie reels in a dead body while filming a PR-driven environmental spot, his paranoid campaign manager (no one does exasperated better than Richard Dreyfuss) hires ex-reporter-turned-private investigator Danny O’Brien (Danny Huston, son of John) to see if the corpse might be part of a smear campaign by his (unnamed) opponent.

The first 20 minutes or so of Silver City are right on target (one is reminded of Altman’s Short Cuts), and hint at great things to come. Then Sayles makes the mistake of shifting the focus almost entirely to Danny’s sloppy sleuthing and trite broken romance with Maria Bello, and what was once wry becomes dry as toast.

Huston (shortly to be seen in The Aviator) does OK in the part, but of all the 19-odd characters in the film, he’s by far the least interesting. Better Sayles had stuck with Cooper and company, and fully exploited his script’s satirical possibilities. If you’re going to skewer George W. in an election year, why be so timid about it? (Landmark’s Hillcrest Cinemas)

*1/2

In the poorly titled Head in the Clouds (not to be confused with Keanu Reeves’ A Walk in the Clouds), Charlize Theron follows up her Oscar-winning performance in Monster with a far less satisfying turn as Gilda Besse, a wealthy, carefree fashion plate who falls for an idealistic working-class Irishman (real-life beau Stuart Townsend) in pre-WWII Europe. Since we can’t “put the blame on Mame” (as Rita Hayworth suggests in the noir classic, Gilda) for this sluggish, excruciatingly long historical love story, I’m forced to point the finger at writer-director John Duigan (Flirting, Sirens, Lawn Dogs—all much better movies). Has epic romance ever been this dull?

“You’re so modern,” gushes Guy (Townsend) to Gilda, clearly swept away by her glamour and free-thinking, sexually uninhibited lifestyle. (She used to share a bed with Penelope Cruz, here playing a nurse with a limp, so you know she’s ahead of her time.) But whereas Guy, “raised on Guinness,” chooses to fight the world’s oppressive forces through political activism, the divinely dressed (smashing costumes courtesy of Mario Davignon) Gilda is content to dabble in exotic photography, sip champagne and take hot baths (usually with the doe-eyed Guy). “Your first responsibility is to yourself,” she says a bit unconvincingly. Hmmm…is there more to this vixen than meets the eye?

Duigan moves his lovers through two wars and numerous separations (which get tiring after awhile), in the manner and style of wide-screen epics like Doctor Zhivago. Trouble is, we don’t really give a damn (though Townsend projects such sweet soulfulness). Theron has a couple of striking moments (one involves her being forced by a Nazi officer to kiss a bloody corpse), but otherwise Duigan doesn’t give her anything special to do, rendering her work largely lackluster.

Head in the Clouds is tedious, repetitive and easy to figure out. Loved the clothes, though. (Landmark’s Village)

the Gay & Lesbian Times

**** a must-see

*** good

** average

* poor

BOMB (think Howard the Duck)